WASHINGTON   IRVING 


THE  ALHAMBRA  and 
WOLFERTS  ROOST 
and  MISCELLANEOUS 

By  WASHINGTON  IRVING 
•f 


R.  F.  FENNO  &  COMPANY:  PUB 
LISHERS  :  9  &  ii  E.  SIXTEENTH 
STREET  :  NEW  YORK  CITY  :  1900 


IOSG 


DEDICATION. 


TO  DAVID  WILKIE,  ESQ.,  R.A. 

MY  DEAR  Sm :— You  may  remember  that,  in  the  course  ot  the 
rambles  we  once  took  together  about  some  of  the  old  cities  of 
Spain,  particularly  Toledo  and  Seville,  we  frequently  remarked 
the  mixture  of  the  Saracenic  with  the  Gothic,  remaining  from 
the  time  of  the  Moors,  and  were  more  than  once  struck  with 
incidents  and  scenes  in  the  streets,  that  brought  to  mind  pas 
sages  in  the  "Arabian  Nights."  You  then  urged  me  to  write 
something  illustrative  of  these  peculiarities ;  ' '  something  in  the 
Haroun  Alraschid  style,"  that  should  have  a  dash  of  that  Ara 
bian  spice  which  pervades  every  thing  in  Spain.  I  call  this  to 
mind  to  show  you  that  you  are,  in  some  degree,  responsible  for 
the  present  work;  in  which  I  have  given  a  few  "Arabesque" 
sketches  and  tales,  taken  from  the  life,  or  founded  on  Hocal  tra 
ditions,  and  mostly  struck  off  during  a  residence  in  one  of  the 
most  legendary  and  Morisco-Spanish  places  of  the  Peninsula. 

I  inscribe  this  work  to  you,  as  a  memorial  of  the  pleasant 
scenes  we  have  witnessed  together,  in  that  land  of  adventure, 
and  as  a  testimony  of  an  esteem  for  your  worth,  which  can 
only  be  exceeded  by  admiration  of  your  talents. 

Your  Mend  and  fellow  traveller, 

THE  AUTHOR, 


434920 


THE  ALHAMBRA. 


CCOTTEKTS, 


MM 

1)EDICATIOW I 

THE  JOURNEY , 7 

GOVERNMENT  OF  THE  ALHAMBRA 80 

INTERIOR  OP  THE  ALHAMBRA - SX 

THE  Towim  ou-  CoteARES SB 

REFLECTIONS  ON  THE  MOSLEM  DOMINATION  IN  SPAIN 82 

THE  HOUSEHOLD 35 

THE  TRUANT 88 

THE  AUTHOR'S  CHAMBER 41 

THE  ALHAMBRA  BY  MOONLIGHT , 45 

INHABITANTS  OF  THE  ALHAMBRA a,» 46 

THE  BALCONY. 49 

THE  ADVENTURE  OF  THE  MASON 54 

A  RAMBLE  AMONG  THE  HILLS 57 

THE  COURT  OF  LIONS    .    , , 68 

BOABDIL  EL  CHICO 67 

MOMENTOS  OF  BOABDIL 70 

THE  TOWER  OF  LAS  INFANTAS  75 

¥HE  HOUSE  OF  THE  WEATHERCOCK 74 

fiEGHND  OF  THE  ARABIAN  ASTROLOGER 75 

LEGEND  OF  THE  THREE  BEAUTIFUL  PRINCESSES 89 

LOCAL  TRADITIONS 108 

LEGEND  OF  THE  MOOR'S  LEGACY 109 

VISITORS  OF  THE  ALHAMBRA 126 

LEGEND  OF  PRINCE  AHMED  AL  KAMEL;  OR,  THE  PILGRIM  OF  LOVE 180 

LEGEND  OF  THE  ROSE  OF  THE  ALHAMBRA;  OR,  THE  PAGE  AND  THE  GER-FALCOH.  156 

THE  VETERAN 168 

THE  GOVERNOR  AND  THE  NOTARY 170 

GOVERNOR  MANGO  AND  THE  SOLDIER 178 

LEGEND  OF  THE  Two  DISCREET  STATUES , 189 

MAHAMAD  ABEN  ALAHMAR,  THE  FOUNDER  OF  THE  ALHAMBRA , 208 

JUSEF  ABUL  HAGIAS,  THE  FINISHER  o»  THE  Ar.mifBBi , 309 


THE    ALHAMBRA. 


A  SERIES  OF  TALES  AND   SKETCHES  OF  THE 
MOORS  AND  SPANIARDS. 


THE  JOURNEY. 

IN  the  spring  of  1829,  the  author  of  this  work,  whom  curiosity 
had  brought  into  Spain,  made  a  rambling  expedition  from  Se 
ville  to  Granada,  in  company  with  a  friend,  a  member  of  the 
Russian  embassy  at  Madrid.  Accident  had  thrown  us  together 
from  distant  regions  of  the  globe,  and  a  similarity  of  taste  led 
us  to  wander  together  among  the  romantic  mountains  of  An 
dalusia.  Should  these  pages  meet  his  eye,  wherever  thrown, 
by  the  duties  of  his  station,  whether  mingling  in  the  pageantry 
of  courts  or  meditating  on  the  truer  glories  of  nature,  may  they 
recall  the  scenes  of  our  adventurous  companionship,  and  with 
them  the  remembrance  of  one,  in  whom  neither  time  nor  dis< 
tance  will  obliterate  the  recoUection  of  his  gentleness  and 
worth. 

And  here,  before  setting  forth,  let  me  indulge  in  a  few  previ 
ous  remarks  on  Spanish  scenery  and  Spanish  travelling. 
Many  are  apt  to  picture  Spain  in  their  imaginations  as  a  soft 
southern  region  decked  out  with  all  the  luxuriant  charms  of 
voluptuous  Italy.  On  the  contrary,  though  there  are  excep 
tions  in  some  of  the  maritime  provinces,  yet,  for  the  greater 
part,  it  is  a  stern,  melancholy  country,  with  rugged  mountains 
and  long,  naked,  sweeping  plains,  destitute  of  trees,  and  inva 
riably  silent  and  lonesome,  partaking  of  the  savage  and  solitary 
character  of  Africa.  What  adds  to  this  silence  and  loneliness, 
is  the  absence  of  singing  birds,  a  natural  consequence  of  the 
want  of  groves  and  hedges.  The  vulture  and  the  eagle  are  seen 
wheeling  about  the  mountain,  cliffs  and  soaring  over  the  p 


6  THE  ALUAMBRA. 

and  groups  of  'sfcy'imstards:  stall*  about  the  heaths,  but  th« 
myriads  of  smaller  birds;  which 'animate  the  whole  face  of 
other  countri6s,:ccre:ip;et>witii  in  bufcfew  provinces  of  Spain,  and 
in  them  chiefly  ainong '  the • orchards  and  gardens  which  sur 
round  the  habitations  of  man. 

In  the  exterior  provinces,  the  traveller  occasionally  traverses 
great  tracts  cultivated  with  grain  as  far  as  the  eye  can  reach, 
waving  at  times  with  verdure,  at  other  times  naked  and  sun 
burnt;  but  he  looks  round  in  vain  for  the  hand  that  has  tilled 
the  soil :  at  length  he  perceives  some  village  perched  on  a  steep 
hill,  or  rugged  crag,  with  mouldering  battlements  and  ruined 
watch-tower ;  a  strong-hold,  in  old  times,  against  civil  war  or 
Moorish  inroad ;  for  the  custom  among  the  peasantry  of  congre 
gating  together  for  mutual  protection,  is  still  kept  up  in  most 
parts  of  Spain,  in  consequence  of  the  marauding  of  roving  free 
booters. 

But  though  a  great  part  of  Spain  is  deficient  in  the  garniture 
of  groves  and  forests,  and  the  softer  charms  of  ornamental  cul 
tivation,  yet  its  scenery  has  something  of  a  high  and  lofty  char 
acter  to  compensate  the  want.  It  partakes  something  of  the 
attributes  of  its  people,  and  I  think  that  I  better  understand 
the  proud,  hardy,  frugal  and  abstemious  Spaniard,  his  manly 
defiance  of  hardships,  and  contempt  of  effeminate  indulgences, 
since  I  have  seen  the  country  he  inhabits. 

There  is  something,  too,  in  the  sternly  simple  features  of  the 
Spanish  landscape,  that  impresses  on  the  soul  a  feeling  of  sub 
limity.  The  immense  plains  of  the  Castiles  and  La  Mancha, 
extending  as  far  as  the  eye  can  reach,  derive  an  interest  from 
their  very  nakedness  and  immensity,  and  have  something  of 
the  solemn  grandeur  of  the  ocean.  In  ranging  over  these 
boundless  wastes,  the  eye  catches  sight,  here  and  there,  of  a 
straggling  herd  of  cattle  attended  by  a  lonely  herdsman,  mo 
tionless  as  a  statue,  with  his  long  slender  pike  tapering  up  like 
a  lance  into  the  air ;  or  beholds  a  long  train  of  mules  slowly 
moving  along  the  waste  like  a  train  of  camels  in  the  desert,  or 
a  single  herdsman,  armed  with  blunderbuss  and  stiletto,  and 
prowling  over  the  plain.  Thus,  the  country,  the  habits,  the 
very  looks  of  the  people,  have  something  of  the  Arabian  char 
acter.  The  general  insecurity  of  the  country  is  evinced  in  the 
universal  use  of  weapons.  The  herdsman  in  the  field,  the  shep 
herd  in  the  plain  has  his  musket  and  his  knife.  The  wealthy 
villager  rarely  ventures  to  the  market-town  without  his  trabu- 
cho,  and,  perhaps,  a  servant  on  foot  with  a  blunderbuss  on 


THE  JOURNEY.  Q 

his  shoulder;  and  the  most  petty  journey  is  undertaken  with 
the  preparations  of  a  warlike  enterprise. 

The  dangers  of  the  road  produce,  also,  a  mode  of  travelling, 
resembling,  on  a  diminutive  scale,  the  caravans  of  the  East. 
The  arrierors  or  carriers,  congregate  in  troops,  and  set  off  in 
large  and  well-armed  trains  on  appointed  days,  while  individual 
travellers  swell  their  number  and  contribute  to  their  strength. 
In  this  primitive  way  is  the  commerce  of  the  country  carried 
on.  The  muleteer  is  the  general  medium  of  traffic,  and  the 
legitimate  wanderer  of  the  land,  traversing  the  Peninsula  from 
the  Pyrenees  and  the  Asturias,  to  the  Alpuxarras,  the  Serrania 
de  Ronda,  and  even  to  the  gates  of  Gibraltar.  He  lives  frugally 
and  hardily;  his  alforjas  (or  saddle-bags),  of  coarse  cloth,  hold 
his  scanty  stock  of  provisions ;  a  leathern  bottle  hanging  at  his 
saddle-bow,  contains  wine  or  water  for  a  supply  across  barren 
mountains  and  thirsty  plains ;  a  mule  cloth  spread  upon  the 
ground  is  his  bed  at  night,  and  his  pack-saddle  is  his  pillow. 
His  low  but  clear-limbed  and  sinewy  form  betokens  strength ; 
his  complexion  is  dark  and  sun-burnt;  his  eye  resolute,  but 
quiet  in  its  expression,  except  when  kindled  by  sudden  emo 
tion;  his  demeanour  is  frank,  manly,  and  courteous,  and  he 
never  passes  you  without  a  grave  salutation — "  Dios  guarda  a 
listed  I" — "  Yay  usted  con  Dios  caballero !" — "  God  guard  you !" 
— "God  be  with  you !  cavalier !" 

As  these  men  have  often  their  whole  fortune  at  stake  upon 
the  burden  of  their  mules,  they  have  their  weapons  at  hand, 
slung  to  their  saddles,  and  ready  to  be  snatched  down  for  des 
perate  defence.  But  their  united  numbers  render  them  secure 
against  petty  bands  of  marauders,  and  the  solitary  bandalero, 
armed  to  the  teeth,  and  mounted  on  his  Andalusian  steed, 
hovers  about  them,  like  a  pirate  about  a  merchant  convoy, 
without  daring  to  make  an  assault. 

The  Spanish  muleteer  has  an  inexhaustible  stock  of  songs 
and  ballads,  with  which  to  beguile  his  incessant  way-faring. 
The  airs  are  rude  and  simple,  consisting  of  but  few  inflexions. 
These  he  chants  forth  with  a  loud  voice,  and  long  drawling 
cadence,  seated  sideways  on  his  mule,  who  seems  to  listen  with 
infinite  gravity,  and  to  keep  time  with  his  paces,  to  the  tune. 
The  couplets  thus  chanted  are  often  old  traditional  romances 
about  the  Moors ;  or  some  legend  of  a  saint ;  or  some  love  ditty ; 
or,  what  is  still  more  frequent,  some  ballad  about  a  bold  contra- 
bandista,  or  hardy  bandalero ;  for  the  smuggler  and  the  robber 
are  poetical  heroes  among  the  common  people  of  Spain.  Often 


10  THE  ALHAMBRA. 

the  song  of  the  muleteer  is  composed  at  the  instant,  and  relates 
to  some  local  scene,  or  some  incident  of  the  journey.  This  tal 
ent  of  singing  and  improvising  is  frequent  in  Spain,  and  is  said 
to  have  been  inherited  from  the  Moors.  There  is  something 
wildly  pleasing  in  listening  to  these  ditties  among  the  rude  and 
lonely  scenes  they  illustrate,  accompanied  as  they  are,  by  the 
occasional  jingle  of  the  mule-bell. 

It  has  a  most  picturesque  effect,  also,  to  meet  a  train  of  mule 
teers  in  some  mountain  pass.  First  you  hear  the  bells  of  the 
leading  mules,  breaking  with  their  simple  melody  the  stillness 
of  the  airy  height ;  or,  perhaps,  the  voice  of  the  muleteer  ad 
monishing  some  tardy  or  wandering  animal,  or  chanting,  at 
the  full  stretch  of  his  lungs,  some  traditionary  ballad.  At 
length  you  see  the  mules  slowly  winding  along  the  cragged 
defile,  sometimes  descending  precipitous  cliffs,  so  as  to  present 
themselves  in  full  relief  against  the  sky,  sometimes  toiling  up 
the  deep  arid  chasms  below  you.  As  they  approach,  you  descry 
their  gay  decorations  of  worsted  tufts,  tassels,  and  saddle 
cloths  ;  while,  as  they  pass  by,  the  ever  ready  trabucho,  slung 
behind  their  packs  and  saddles,  gives  a  hint  of  the  insecurity 
of  the  road. 

The  ancient  kingdom  of  Granada,  into  which  we  are  about 
to  penetrate,  is  one  of  the  most  mountainous  regions  of  Spain. 
Vast  sierras  or  chains  of  mountains,  destitute  of  shrub  or  tree, 
and  mottled  with  variegated  marbles  and  granites,  elevate  their 
sun-burnt  summits  against  a  deep  blue  sky,  yet  in  their  rugged 
bosoms  lie  engulfed  the  most  verdant  and  fertile  valley,  where 
the  desert  and  the  garden  strive  for  mastery,  and  the  very  rock, 
as  it  were,  compelled  to  yield  the  fig,  the  orange,  and  the  cit- 
ron,  and  to  blossom  with  the  myrtle  and  the  rose. 

In  the  wild  passes  of  these  mountains,  the  sight  of  walled 
towns  and  villages  built  like  eagles'  nests  among  the  cliffs,  and 
surrounded  by  Moorish  battlements,  or  of  ruined  watch-towers 
perched  on  lofty  peaks,  carry  the  mind  back  to  the  chivalrous 
days  of  Christian  and  Moslem  warfare,  and  to  the  romantic 
struggle  for  the  conquest  of  Granada.  In  traversing  their  lofty 
Sierras,  the  traveller  is  often  obliged  to  alight  and  lead  his  horse 
up  and  down  the  steep  and  jagged  ascents  and  descents,  resem 
bling  the  broken  steps  of  a  staircase.  Sometimes  the  road 
winds  along  dizzy  precipices,  without  parapet  to  guard  him 
from  the  gulfs  below,  and  then  will  plunge  down  steep  and 
dark  and  dangerous  deck'  vities.  Sometimes  it  struggles  through 
rugged  barrancos,  or  ravines,  worn  by  water  torrents;  the  ob- 


'THE  JOURNEY.  H 

scure  paths  of  the  Contrabandista,  while  ever  and  anon,  thg 
ominous  cross,  the  memento  of  robbery  and  murder,  erected 
on  a  mound  of  stones  at  some  lonely  part  of  the  road,  admon 
ishes  the  traveller  that  he  is  among  the  haunts  of  banditti; 
perhaps,  at  that  very  moment,  under  the  eye  of  some  lurking 
bandalero.  Sometimes,  in  winding  through  the  narrow  valleys, 
he  is  startled  by  a  horse  bellowing,  and  beholds  above  him,  on 
some  green  fold  of  the  mountain  side,  a  herd  of  fierce  Andalu- 
sian  bulls,  destined  for  the  combat  of  the  arena.  There  is 
something  awful  in  the  contemplation  of  these  terrific  animals, 
clothed  with  tremendous  strength,  and  ranging  their  native 
pastures,  in  untamed  wildness :  strangers  almost  to  the  face  of 
man.  They  know  no  one  but  the  solitary  herdsman  who  attends 
upon  them,  and  even  he  at  times  dares  not  venture  to  approach 
them.  The  low  bellowings  of  these  bulls,  and  their  menacing 
aspect  as  they  look  down  from  their  rocky  height,  give  addi 
tional  wildness  to  the  savage  scenery  around. 

I  have  been  betrayed  unconsciously  into  a  longer  disquisition 
than  I  had  intended  on  the  several  features  of  Spanish  travel 
ling  ;  but  there  is  a  romance  about  all  the  recollections  of  the 
Peninsula  that  is  dear  to  the  imagination. 

It  was  on  the  first  of  May  that  my  companion  and  myself 
set  forth  from  Seville,  on  our  route  to  Granada.  We  had  made 
all  due  preparations  for  the  nature  of  our  journey,  which  lay 
through  mountainous  regions  where  the  roads  are  little  better 
than  mere  mule  paths,  and  too  frequently  beset  by  robbers. 
The  most  valuable  part  of  our  luggage  had  been  forwarded  by 
the  arrieros ;  we  retained  merely  clothing  and  necessaries  for 
the  journey,  and  money  for  the  expenses  of  the  road,  with  a 
sufficient  surplus  of  the  latter  to  satisfy  the  expectations  of 
robbers,  should  we  be  assailed,  and  to  save  ourselves  from  the 
rough  treatment  that  awaits  the  too  wary  and  emptyhanded 
traveller.  A  couple  of  stout  hired  steeds  were  provided  for 
ourselves,  and  a  third  for  our  scanty  luggage,  and  for  the 
conveyance  of  a  sturdy  Biscayan  lad  of  about  twenty  years  of 
age,  who  was  to  guide  us  through  the  perplexed  mazes  of  the 
mountain  roads,  to  take  care  of  our  horses,  to  act  occasionally 
as  our  valet,  and  at  all  times  as  our  guard ;  for  he  had  a  for 
midable  trabucho,  or  carbine,  to  defend  us  from  rateros,  or 
solitary  footpads,  about  which  weapon  he  made  much  vain 
glorious  boast,  though,  to  the  discredit  of  his  generalship,  I 
must  say  that  it  generally  hung  unloaded  behind  his  saddle. 
He  was,  however,  a  faithful,  cheery,  kind-hearted  creature,  full 


12  THE  ALIIAMBRA. 

at  saws  and  proverbs  as  that  miracle  of  squires,  the  renowned 
Sancho  himself,  whose  name  we  bestowed  upon  him ;  and,  like 
a  true  Spaniard,  though  treated  by  us  with  companionable 
familiarity,  he  never  for  a  moment  in  his  utmost  hilarity  over 
stepped  the  bounds  of  respectful  decorum. 

Thus  equipped  and  attended,  we  set  out  on  our  journey  witfc 
a  genuine  disposition  to  be  pleased:  with  such  a  disposition, 
what  a  country  is  Spain  for  a  traveller,  where  the  most  miser- 
able  inn  is  as  full  of  adventure  as  an  enchanted  castle,  and 
every  meal  is  in  itself,  an  achievement !  Let  others  repine  at 
the  lack  of  turnpike  roads  and  sumptuous  hotels,  and  all  the 
elaborate  comforts  of  a  country  cultivated  into  tameness  and 
common-place,  but  give  me  the  rude  mountain  scramble,  the 
roving  haphazard  way-faring,  the  frank,  hospitable,  though 
half  wild  manners,  that  give  such  a  true  game  flavour  to 
romantic  Spain! 

Our  first  evening's  entertainment  had  a  relish  of  the  kind. 
We  arrived  after  sunset  at  a  little  town  among  the  hills,  after 
a  fatiguing  journey  over  a  wide  houseless  plain,  where  we  had 
been  repeatedly  drenched  with  showers.  In  the  inn  were 
quartered  a  party  of  Miguelistas,  who  were  patrolling  the 
country  in  pursuit  of  robbers.  The  appearance  of  foreigners 
like  ourselves  was  unusual  in  this  remote  town.  Mine  host  with 
two  or  three  old  gossipping  comrades  in  brown  cloaks  studied 
our  passports  in  the  corner  of  the  posada,  while  an  Alguazil 
took  notes  by  the  dun  light  of  a  lamp.  The  passports  were  in 
foreign  languages  and  perplexed  them,  but  our  Squire  Sancho 
assisted  them  in  their  studies,  and  magnified  our  important 
with  the  grandiloquence  of  a  Spaniard.  In  the  mean  time  the 
magnificent  distribution  of  a  few  cigars  had  won  the  hearts  of 
all  around  us.  In  a  little  while  the  whole  community  seemed 
put  in  agitation  to  make  us  welcome.  The  Corregidor  himself 
waited  upon  us,  and  a  great  rush-bottomed  armed  chair  was 
ostentatiously  bolstered  into  our  room  by  our  landlady,  for 
the  accommodation  of  that  important  personage.  The  com 
mander  of  the  patrol  took  supper  with  us :  a  surly,  talking, 
laughing,  swaggering  Andaluz,  who  had  made  a  campaign  in 
South  America,  and  recounted  his  exploits  in  love  and  war 
with  much  pomp  of  praise  and  vehemence  of  gesticulation,  and 
mysterious  rolling  of  the  eye.  He  told  us  he  had  a  list  of  all 
the  robbers  in  the  country,  and  meant  to  ferret  out  every 
mother's  son  of  them ;  he  offered  us  at  the  same  time  some  of 
his  soldiers  as  an  escort.  "One  is  enough  to  prc'  3t  you. 


THE  JOURNEY.  13 

Signers ;  the  robbers  know  me,  and  know  my  men ;  the  sight 
of  one  is  enough  to  spread  terror  through  a  whole  sierra." 
We  thanked  him  for  his  offer,  but  assured  him,  in  his  own 
strain,  that  with  the  protection  of  our  redoubtable  Squire 
Sancho,  we  were  not  afraid  of  all  the  ladrones  of  Andalusia. 

While  we  were  supping  with  our  Andalusian  friend,  we 
heard  the  notes  of  a  guitar  and  the  click  of  castanets,  and 
presently,  a  chorus  of  voices,  singing  a  popular  air.  In  fact, 
mine  host  had  gathered  together  the  amateur  singers  and 
musicians  and  the  rustic  belles  of  the  neighbourhood,  and  on 
going  forth,  the  court-yard  of  the  inn  presented  a  scene  of 
true  Spanish  festivity.  We  took  our  seats  with  mine  host  and 
hostess  and  the  commander  of  the  patrol,  under  the  archway 
of  the  court.  The  guitar  passed  from  hand  to  hand,  but  a 
jovial  shoemaker  was  the  Orpheus  of  the  place.  He  was  a 
pleasant  looking  fellow  with  huge  black  whiskers  and  a 
roguish  eye.  His  sleeves  were  rolled  up  to  his  elbows;  he 
touched  the  guitar  with  masterly  skill,  and  sang  little  amorous 
ditties  with  an  expressive  leer  at  the  women,  with  whom  he 
was  evidently  a  favourite.  He  afterwards  danced  a  fandango 
with  a  buxom  Andalusian  damsel,  to  the  great  delight  of  the 
spectators.  But  none  of  the  females  present  could  compare 
with  mine  host's  pretty  daughter  Josefa,  who  had  slipped 
away  and  made  her  toilette  for  the  occasion,  and  had  adorned 
her  head  with  roses ;  and  also  distinguished  herself  in  a  bolero 
with  a  handsome  young  dragoon.  We  had  ordered  our  host 
to  let  wine  and  refreshments  circulate  freely  among  the 
company,  yet,  though  there  was  a  motley  assemblage  of 
soldiers,  muleteers  and  villagers,  no  one  exceeded  the  bounds 
of  sober  enjoyment.  The  scene  was  a  study  for  a  painter :  the 
picturesque  group  of  dancers;  the  troopers  in  their  half  mili- 
pary  dresses,  the  peasantry  wrapped  in  their  brown  cloaks, 
nor  must  I  omit  to  mention  the  old  meagre  Alguazil  in  a  short 
black  cloak,  who  took  no  notice  of  any  thing  going  on,  but 
sat  in  a  corner  diligently  writing  by  the  dim  light  of  a  huge 
copper  lamp  that  might  have  figured  in  the  days  of  Don 
Quixote. 

I  am  not  writing  a  regular  narrative,  and  do  not  pretend  to 
give  the  varied  events  of  several  days'  rambling  over  bill  and 
dale,  and  moor  and  mountain.  We  travelled  in  true  contra- 
Dandista  style,  taking  every  thing,  rough  and  smooth,  as  we 
found  it.  and  mingling  wifh  all  classes  and  conditions  in  a 
<abon"i  coir  •  ^  ^  hi»-  It  is  the  true  way  to  trave) 


14  TUB  ALHAMBRA. 

In  Spam.  Knowing  the  scanty  larders  of  the  inns,  and  the 
naked  tracts  of  country  the  traveller  has  often  to  traverse,  we 
had  taken  care,  on  starting,  to  have  the  alforjas,  or  saddle 
bags,  of  our  Squire  well  stocked  with  cold  provisions,  and  his 
beta,  or  leathern  bottle,  which  was  of  portly  dimensions,  filled 
to  the  neck  with  choice  Valdepenas  wine.  As  this  was  a 
munition  for  our  campaign  more  important  than  even  his 
trabucho,  we  exhorted  him  to  have  an  eye  to  it,  and  I  will  do 
him  the  justice  to  say  that  his  namesake,  the  trencher-loving 
Sancho  himself,  could  not  excel  him  as  a  provident  purveyor. 
Though  the  alforjas  and  beta  were  repeatedly  and  vigorously 
assailed  throughout  the  journey,  they  appeared  to  have  a 
miraculous  property  of  being  never  empty;  for  our  vigilant 
Squire  took  care  to  sack  every  thing  that  remained  from  our 
evening  repasts  at  the  inns,  to  supply  our  next  day's  luncheon. 

What  luxurious  noontide  repasts  have  we  made  on  the 
green  sward  by  the  side  of  a  brook  or  fountain  under  a  shady 
tree,  and  then  what  delicious  siestas  on  our  cloaks  spread  out 
on  the  herbage! 

"We  paused  one  day  at  noon,  for  a  repast  of  the  kind.  It 
was  in  a  pleasant  little  green  meadow,  surrounded  by  hills 
covered  with  oh' ve  trees.  Our  cloaks  were  spread  on  the  grass 
under  an  elm  tree,  by  the  side  of  a  babbling  rivulet :  our  horses 
were  tethered  where  they  might  crop  the  herbage,  and  Sancho 
produced  his  alforjas  with  an  air  of  triumph.  They  contained 
the  contributions  of  four  days'  journeying,  hut  had  been  sig 
nally  enriched  by  the  foraging  of  the  previous  evening,  in  a 
plenteous  inn  at  Antequera.  Our  Squire  drew  forth  the 
heterogeneous  contents  one  by  one,  and  they  seemed  to  have 
no  end.  First  came  forth  a  shoulder  of  roasted  kid,  very  little 
the  worse  for  wear,  then  an  entire  partridge,  then  a  great 
morsel  of  salted  codfish  wrapped  in  paper,  then  the  residue  of 
a  ham,  then  the  hah*  of  a  pullet,  together  with  several  rolls  of 
bread  and  a  rabble  rout  of  oranges,  figs,  raisins,  and  walnuts. 
His  beta  also  had  been  recruited  with  some  excellent  wine  of 
Malaga.  At  every  fresh  apparition  from  his  larder,  he  could 
enjoy  our  ludicrous  surprise,  throwing  himself  back  on  the 
grass  and  shouting  with  laughter. 

Nothing  pleased  this  simple-hearted  varlet  more  than  to  be 
compared,  for  his  devotion  to  the  trencher,  to  the  renowned 
squire  of  Don  Quixote.  He  was  well  versed  in  the  history  of 
the  Don,  and,  like  most  of  the  common  people  of  Spain,  he 
firmly  believed  it  to  be  a  true  history. 


TEE  JOURNEY.  ~  15 

"All  that,  however,  happened  a  long  time  ago,  Signer,"  said 
fte  to  me,  one  day,  with  an  inquiring  look. 

' '  A  very  long  time, "  was  the  reply. 

"  I  dare  say,  more  than  a  thousand  years?"— still  looking 
dubiously. 

"  I  dare  say?  not  less." 

The  squire  was  satisfied. 

As  we  were  making  our  repast  above  described,  and  divert 
ing  ourselves  with  the  simple  drollery  of  our  squire,  a  solitary 
beggar  approached  us,  who  had  almost  the  look  of  a  pilgrim. 
He  was  evidently  very  old,  with  a  gray  beard,  and  supported 
himself  on  a  staff,  yet  age  had  not  borne  him  down ;  he  was 
tall  and  erect,  and  had  the  wreck  of  a  fine  form.  He  wore 
a  round  Andalusian  hat,  a  sheepskin  jacket,  and  leathern 
breeches,  gaiters,  and  sandals.  His  dress,  though  old  and 
patched,  was  decent,  his  demeanour  manly,  and  he  addressed 
us  with  that  grave  courtesy  that  is  to  be  remarked  in  the  low 
est  Spaniard.  We  were  in  a  favourable  mood  for  such  a 
visitor,  and  in  a  freak  of  capricious  charity  gave  him  some 
silver,  a  loaf  of  fine  wheaten  bread,  and  a  goblet  of  our  choice 
wine  of  Malaga.  He  received  them  thankfully,  but  without 
any  grovelling  tribute  of  gratitude.  Tasting  the  wine,  he  held 
it  up  to  the  light,  with  a  slight  beam  of  surprise  in  his  eye? 
then  quaffing  it  off  at  a  draught:  "  It  is  many  years,"  said  he, 
"since  I  have  tasted  such  wine.  It  is  a  cordial  to  an  old  man's 
heart."  Then  looking  at  the  beautiful  wheaten  loaf:  "  Bendita 
Bea  tal  pan !"  (blessed  be  such  bread !)  So  saying,  he  put  it  in 
his  wallet.  We  urged  him  to  eat  it  on  the  spot.  "No, 
Bignors,"  replied  he,  "the  wine  I  had  to  drink,  or  leave;  but 
the  bread  I  must  take  home  to  share  with  my  family. " 

Our  man  Sancho  sought  our  eye,  and  reading  permission 
there,  gave  the  old  man  some  of  the  ample  fragments  of  our 
repast;  on  condition,  however,  that  he  should  sit  down  and 
make  a  meal.  He  accordingly  took  his  seat  at  some  little  dis 
tance  from  us,  and  began  to  eat,  slowly,  and  with  a  sobriety 
and  decorum  that  would  have  become  a  hidalgo.  There  was 
altogether  a  measured  manner  and  a  quiet  self-possession  about 
the  old  man,  that  made  me  think  he  had  seen  better  days ;  his 
language,  too,  though  simple,  had  occasionally  something  pic 
turesque  and  almost  poetical  in  the  phraseology.  I  set  him 
flown  for  some  broken-down  cavalier.  I  was  mistaken,  it  was 
nothing  but  the  innate  courtesy  of  a  Spaniard,  and  the  poetical 
iurn  of  thought  and  language  often  to  be  found  in  the  lowest 


16  THE  ALUAMBUA. 

classes  of  this  clear- witted  people.  For  fifty  years,  he  told  us, 
he  had  been  a  shepherd,  but  now  he  was  out  of  employ,  and 
destitute.  "When  I  was  a  young  man,"  said  ho,  "nothing 
could  harm  or  trouble  me.  I  was  always  well,  always  gay ; 
but  now  I  am  seventy-nine  years  of  age,  and  a  beggar,  and 
my  heart  begins  to  fail  me." 

Still  he  was  not  a  regular  mendicant,  it  was  not  until 
Decently  that  want  had  driven  him  to  this  degradation,  and  he 
gave  a  touching  picture  of  the  struggle  between  hunger  and 
pride,  when  abject  destitution  first  came  upon  him.  He  was 
returning  from  Malaga,  without  money;  he  had  not  tasted 
food  for  some  time,  and  was  crossing  one  of  the  great  plains  of 
Spain,  where  there  were  but  few  habitations.  When  almost 
dead  with  hunger,  he  applied  at  the  door  of  a  venta,  or  country 
inn.  "Perdona  usted  per  Dios  hermano!"  (excuse  us,  brother, 
for  God's  sake !)  was  the  reply ;— the  usual  mode  in  Spain  of 
refusing  a  beggar.  "I  turned  away,"  said  he,  "with  shame 
greater  than  my  hunger,  for  my  heart  was  yet  too  proud.  I 
came  to  a  river  with  high  banks  and  deep  rapid  current,  and 
felt  tempted  to  throw  myself  in;  what  should  such  an  old 
worthless  wretched  man  as  I  live  for!  But  when  I  was  on 
the  brink  of  the  current,  I  thought  on  the  blessed  Virgin,  and 
turned  away.  I  travelled  on  until  I  saw  a  country-seat,  at  a 
little  distance  from  the  road,  and  entered  the  outer  gate  of  the 
court-yard.  The  door  was  shut,  but  there  were  two  young 
signoras  at  a  window.  I  approached,  and  begged :  '  Perdona 
usted  per  Dios  hermano ! '  (excuse  us,  brother,  for  God's  sake !) 
and  the  window  closed.  I  crept  out  of  the  court-yard;  but 
hunger  overcame  me,  and  my  heart  gave  way.  I  thought  my 
hour  was  at  hand.  So  I  laid  myself  down  at  the  gate,  com 
mended  myself  to  the  holy  Virgin,  and  covered  my  head  to  die. 
In  a  little  while  afterwards,  the  master  of  the  house  came 
home.  Seeing  me  lying  at  his  gate,  he  uncovered  my  head, 
had  pity  on  my  gray  hairs,  took  me  into  his  house,  and  gave 
me  food.  So,  Signers,  you  see  that  we  should  always  put  con- 
fidence  in  the  protection  of  the  Virgin." 

The  old  man  was  on  his  way  to  his  native  place  Archidona, 
which  was  close  by  the  summit  of  a  steep  and  rugged  mountain. 
He  pointed  to  the  ruins  of  its  old  Moorish  castle.  That  castle, 
he  said,  was  inhabited  by  a  Moorish  king  at  the  time  of  the 
wars  of  Granada.  Queen  Isabella  invaded  it  with  a  great 
army,  but  the  king  looked  down  from  his  castle  among  the 
clouds,  and  laughed  her  to  scorn.  Upon  this,  the  Virgin 


THE  JOURNEY.  17 

appeared  to  the  queen,  and  guided  her  and  her  army  up  a  mys 
terious  path  of  the  mountain,  which  had  never  before  been 
known.  When  the  Moor  saw  her  coming,  he  was  astonished, 
and  springing  with  his  horse  from  a  precipice,  was  dashed  to 
pieces.  The  marks  of  his  horse's  hoofs,  said  the  old  man,  are 
to  be  seen  on  the  margin  of  the  rock  to  this  day.  And  see. 
Signors,  yonder  is  the  road  by  which  the  queen  and  her  armj 
mounted,  you  see  it  like  a  riband  up  the  mountain  side ;  but 
the  miracle  is,  that,  though  it  can  be  seen  at  a  distance,  when 
you  come  near,  it  disappears.  The  ideal  road  to  which  he 
pointed,  was  evidently  a  sandy  ravine  of  the  mountain,  which 
looked  narrow  and  defined  at  a  distance,  but  became  broad  and 
indistinct  on  an  approach.  As  the  old  man's  heart  warmed 
with  wine  and  wassail,  he  went  on  to  tell  us  a  story  of  the 
buried  treasure  left  under  the  earth  by  the  Moorish  king.  His 
own  house  was  next  to  the  foundations  of  the  castle.  The 
curate  and  notary  dreamt  three  times  of  the  treasure,  and 
went  to  work  at  the  place  pointed  out  in  their  dreams.  His 
own  son-in-law  heard  the  sound  of  their  pick-axes  and  spades 
at  night.  What  they  found  nobody  knows ;  they  became  sud 
denly  rich,  but  kept  their  own  secret.  Thus  the  old  man  frad 
once  been  next  door  to  fortune,  but  was  doomed  never  to  get 
under  the  same  roof. 

I  have  remarked  that  the  stories  of  treasure  buried  by  the 
Moors,  which  prevail  throughout  Spain,  are  most  current 
among  the  poorest  people.  It  is  thus  kind  nature  consoles 
with  shadows  for  the  lack  of  substantials.  The  thirsty  man 
dreams  of  fountains  and  roaring  streams,  the  hungry  man  of 
ideal  banquets,  and  the  poor  man  of  heaps  of  hidden  gold; 
nothing  certainly  is  more  magnificent  than  the  imagination  of 
a  beggar. 

The  last  travelling  sketch  which  I  shall  give  is  a  curious 
scene  at  the  little  city  of  Loxa.  This  was  a  famous  belligerent 
frontier  post,  in  the  time  of  the  Moors,  and  repulsed  Ferdinand 
from  its  walls.  It  was  the  strong-hold  of  old  Ah'  Atar,  the 
father-in-law  of  Boabdil,  when  that  fiery  veteran  sallied  forth 
with  his  son-in-law,  on  that  disastrous  inroad,  that  ended  in 
the  death  of  the  chieftain,  and  the  capture  of  the  monarch. 
Loxa  is  wildly  situated  in  a  broken  mountain  pass,  on  the 
banks  of  the  Xenil,  among  rocks  and  groves,  and  meadows 
and  gardens.  The  people  seem  still  to  retain  the  bold  fiery 
spirit  of  the  olden  time.  Our  inn  was  suited  to  the  place.  It 
was  kept  by  a  young,  handsome,  Andalusian  widow, 


18  THE  ALHAMBRA. 

trim  busquina  of  black  silk  fringed  with  bugles,  set  off  th» 
play  of  a  graceful  form,  and  round  pliant  limbs.  Her  step  wai 
firm  and  elastic,  her  dark  eye  was  full  of  fire,  and  the  coquetr  j 
of  her  air  and  varied  ornaments  of  her  person  showed  that 
she  was  accustomed  to  be  admired. 

She  was  well  matched  by  a  brother,  nearly  about  her  own 
age;  they  were  perfect  models  of  the  Andalusian  majo  and 
maja.  He  was  tall,  vigorous,  and  well  formed,  with  a  clear, 
olive  complexion,  a  dark  beaming  eye,  and  curling,  chestnut 
whiskers,  that  met  under  his  chin.  He  was  gallantly  dressed 
in  a  short  green  velvet  jacket,  fitted  to  his  shape,  profusely 
decorated  with  silver  buttons,  with  a  white  handkerchief  in 
each  pocket.  He  had  breeches  of  the  same,  with  rows  of  but 
tons  from  the  hips  to  the  knees ;  a  pink  silk  handkerchief  round 
his  neck,  gathered  through  a  ring,  on  the  bosom  of  a  neatly 
plaited  shirt;  a  sash  round  the  waist  to  match;  bottinas  or 
spatterdashes  of  the  finest  russet  leather,  elegantly  worked  and 
open  at  the  calves  to  show  his  stockings,  and  russet  shoes  set 
ting  off  a  well-shaped  foot. 

As  he  was  standing  at  the  door,  a  horseman  rode  up  and 
entered  into  low  and  earnest  conversation  with  him.  He  was 
dressed  in  similar  style,  and  almost  with  equal  finery.  A  man 
about  thirty,  square  built,  with  strong  Roman  features,  hand 
some,  though  slightly  pitted  with  the  small-pox,  with  a  free, 
bold  and  somewhat  daring  air.  His  powerful  black  horse  wag 
decorated  with  tassels  and  fanciful  trappings,  and  a  couple  of 
broad-mouthed  blunderbusses  hung  behind  the  saddle.  He  had 
the  air  of  those  contrabandistas  that  I  have  seen  in  the  moun 
tains  of  Honda,  and,  evidently,  had  a  good  understanding  with 
the  brother  of  mine  hostess ;  nay,  if  I  mistake  not,  he  was  a 
favourite  admirer  of  the  widow.  In  fact,  the  whole  inn  and  its 
inmates  had  something  of  a  contrabandista  aspect,  and  the 
blunderbuss  stood  in  a  corner  beside  the  guitar.  The  horseman 
I  have  mentioned,  passed  his  evening  in  the  posada,  and  sang 
several  bold  mountain  romances  with  great  spirit. 

As  we  were  at  supper,  two  poor  Asturians  put  in  in  distress, 
begging  food  and  a  night's  lodging.  They  had  been  waylaid  by 
robbers  as  they  came  from  a  fair  among  the  mountains,  robbed 
of  a  horse,  which  carried  all  their  stock  in  trade,  stripped  of 
their  money  and  most  of  their  apparel,  beaten  for  having 
offered  resistance,  and  left  almost  naked  in  the  road.  My  com 
panion,  with  a  prompt  generosity,  natural  to  him,  ordered  them 


TEE  JOURNEY.  19 

i  supper  and  a  bed,  and  gave  them  a  supply  of  money  to  help 
them  forward  towards  their  home. 

As  the  evening  advanced,  the  dramatis  personae  thickened. 
A  large  man,  about  sixty  years  of  age,  of  powerful  frame,  came 
strolling  in,  to  gossip  with  mine  hostess.  He  was  dressed  in 
the  ordinary  Andalusian  costume,  but  had  a  huge  sabre  tucked 
under  his  arm,  wore  large  moustaches  and  had  something  of  a 
lofty  swaggering  air.  Every  one  seemed  to  regard  him  with 
great  deference. 

Our  man,  Sancho,  whispered  to  us  that  he  was  Don  Ventura 
Rodriguez,  the  hero  and  champion  of  Loxa,  famous  for  his 
prowess  and  the  strength  of  his  arm.  In  the  time  of  the  French 
invasion,  he  surprised  six  troopers  who  were  asleep.  He  first 
secured  their  horses,  then  attacked  them  with  his  sabre ;  killed 
some,  and  took  the  rest  prisoners.  For  this  exploit,  the  king 
allows  him  a  peceta,  (the  fifth  of  a  duro,  or  dollar,)  per  day, 
and  has  dignified  him  with  the  title  of  Don. 

I  was  amused  to  notice  his  swelling  language  and  demeanour. 
He  was  evidently  a  thorough  Andalusian,  boastful  as  he  was 
brave.  His  sabre  was  always  in  his  hand,  or  under  his  arm. 
He  carries  it  always  about  with  him  as  a  child  does  a  doll,  calls 
it  his  Santa  Teresa,  and  says,  that  when  he  draws  it,  "  tembla 
la  tierra !"  (the  earth  trembles !) 

I  sat  until  a  late  hour  listening  to  the  varied  themes  of  this 
motley  group,  who  mingled  together  'with  the  unreserve  of  a 
Spanish  posada.  We  had  contrabandista  songs,  stories  of  rob 
bers,  guerilla  exploits,  and  Moorish  legends.  The  last  one  from 
our  handsome  landlady,  who  gave  a  poetical  account  of  the 
infiernos,  or  infernal  regions  of  Loxa — dark  caverns,  in  which 
subterraneous  streams  and  waterfalls  make  a  mysterious  sound. 
The  common  people  say  they  are  money  coiners,  shut  up  there 
from  the  !time  of  the  Moors,  and  that  the  Moorish  kings  kept 
their  treasures  in  these  caverns. 

Were  it  the  purport  of  this  work,  I  could  fill  its  pages  with 
the  incidents  and  scenes  of  our  rambling  expedition,  but  other 
themes  invite  me.  Journeying  in  this  manner,  we  at  length 
emerged  from  the  mountains,  and  entered  upon  the  beautiful 
Vega  of  Granada.  Here  we  took  our  last  mid-day's  repast 
tinder  a  grove  of  olive  trees,  on  the  borders  of  a  rivulet,  with 
the  old  Moorish  capital  in  the  distance,  dominated  by  the  ruddy 
towers  of  the  Alhambra,  while  far  above  it  the  snowy  summits 
l>f  the  Sierra  Nevada  shone  like  silver.  The  day  was  without 


20  THE  ALHAMBRA. 

a  cloud,  and  the  heat  of  the  sun  tempered  by  cool  breezes  from 
the  mountains;  after  our  repast,  wo  spread  our  cloaks  and  im>k 
our  last  siesta,  lulled  by  the  humming  of  bees  among  the  1  low 
ers,  and  the  notes  of  the  ring  doves  from  the  neighbouring 
olive  trees.  When  the  sultry  hours  were  past,  we  resumed 
our  journey,  and  after  passing  between  hedges  of  aloes  and 
Indian  figs,  and  through  a  wilderness  of  gardens,  arrived  about 
sunset  at  the  gates  of  Granada. 


GOVEKNMENT  OF  THE  ALHAMBRA. 

To  the  traveller  imbued  with  a  feeling  for  the  historical  and 
poetical,  the  Alhambra  of  Granada  is  as  much  an  object  of 
veneration  as  is  the  Caaba,  or  sacred  house  of  Mecca,  to  all  true 
Moslem  pilgrims.  How  many  legends  and  traditions,  true  and 
fabulous,  how  many  songs  and  romances,  Spanish  and  Arabian, 
of  love  and  war  and  chivalry,  are  associated  with  this  romantic 
pile !  The  reader  may  judge,  therefore,  of  our  delight,  when, 
shortly  after  our  arrival  in  Granada,  the  governor  of  Alhambra 
gave  us  permission  to  occupy  his  vacant  apartments  in  the 
Moorish  palace.  My  companion  was  soon  summoned  away  by 
the  duties  of  his  station,  but  I  remained  for  several  months 
spell-bound  in  the  old  enchanted  pile.  The  following  papers 
are  the  result  of  my  reveries  and  researches,  during  that  deli 
cious  thraldom.  If  they  have  the  power  of  imparting  any  of 
the  witching  charms  of  the  place  to  the  imagination  of  the 
reader,  he  will  not  repine  at  lingering  with  me  for  a  season  in 
the  legendary  halls  of  the  Alhambra. 

THE  Alhambra  is  an  ancient  fortress  or  castellated  palace  of 
the  Moorish  kings  of  Granada,  where  they  held  dominion  over 
this  their  boasted  terrestrial  paradise,  and  made  their  last 
stand  for  empire  in  Spain.  The  palace  occupies  bu+  a  portion 
of  the  fortress,  the  walls  of  which,  studded  with  towers,  stretch 
irregularly  round  the  whole  crest  of  a  lofty  hill  that  overlooks 
the  city,  and  forms  a  spire  of  the  Sierra  Nevada  or  Snowy 
Mountain. 

In  the  time  of  the  Moors,  the  fortress  was  capable  of  contain 
ing  an  army  of  forty  thousand  men  within  its  pr«eincts,  and 
served  occasionally  as  a  strong-hold  of  the  sovere>x*w  VI*T"'US|; 


GOVERNMENT  OF  THE  ALHAMBRA.  21 

their  rebellious  subjects.  After  the  kingdom  had  passed  into 
the  hands  of  the  Christians,  the  Alhambra  continued  a  royal 
demesne,  and  was  occasionally  inhabited  by  the  Castilian 
monarchs.  The  Emperor  Charles  V.  began  a  sumptuous 
palace  within  its  walls,  but  was  deterred  from  completing  it  by 
repeated  shocks  of  earthquakes.  The  last  royal  residents  were 
Philip  V.  and  his  beautiful  Queen  Elizabetta,  of  Parma,  early/ 
in  the  eighteenth  century. 

Great  preparations  were  made  for  their  reception.  The 
palace  and  gardens  were  placed  in  a  state  of  repair ;  and  a  new 
suite  of  apartments  erected,  and  decorated  by  artists  brought 
from  Italy.  The  sojourn  of  the  sovereigns  was  transient; 
and,  after  their  departure,  the  palace  once  more  became  deso 
late.  Still  the  place  was  maintained  with  some  military  state. 
The  governor  held  it  immediately  from  the  crown :  its  jurisdic 
tion  extended  down  into  the  suburbs  of  the  city,  and  was 
independent  of  the  captain  general  of  Granada.  A  consider 
able  garrison  was  kept  up ;  the  governor  had  his  apartments 
in  the  old  Moorish  palace,  and  never  descended  into  Granada 
without  some  military  parade.  The  fortress,  in  fact,  was  a 
little  town  of  itself,  having  several  streets  of  houses  within  its 
walls,  together  with  a  Franciscan  convent  and  a  parochial 
church. 

The  desertion  of  the  court,  however,  was  a  fatal  blow  to  the 
Alhambra.  Its  beautiful  walls  became  desolate,  and  some  of 
them  fell  to  ruin ;  the  gardens  were  destroyed,  and  the  foun 
tains  ceased  to  play.  By  degrees  the  dwellings  became  filled 
up  with  a  loose  and  lawless  population ;  contrabandistas,  who 
availed  themselves  of  its  independent  jurisdiction,  to  carry  on 
a  wide  and  daring  course  of  smuggling,  and  thieves  and  rogues 
of  all  sorts,  who  made  this  their  place  of  refuge,  from  whence 
they  might  depredate  upon  Granada  and  its  vicinity.  The 
strong  arm  of  government  at  length  interposed.  The  whole 
community  was  thoroughly  sifted;  none  were  suffered  to 
remain  but  such  as  were  of  honest  character  and  had  legiti 
mate  right  to  a  residence ;  the  greater  part  of  the  houses  were 
demolished,  and  a  mere  hamlet  left,  with  the  parochial  church 
and  the  Franciscan  convent. 

During  the  recent  troubles  in  Spain,  when  Granada  was  in 
the  hands  of  the  French,  the  Alhambra  was  garrisoned  by 
their  troops,  and  the  palace  was  occasionally  inhabited  by  the 
French  commander.  With  that  enlightened  taste  which  has 
ever  distinguished  the  French  nation  in  their  conauests,  than 


32  THE  ALHAMBRA. 

monument  of  Moorish  elegance  and  grandeur  was  rescued 
from  the  absolute  ruin  and  desolation  that  were  overwhelming 
it.  The  roofs  were  repaired,  the  saloons  and  galleries  pn> 
tected  from  the  weather,  the  gardens  cultivated,  the  water- 
courses  restored,  the  fountains  once  more  made  to  throw  up 
their  sparkling  showers:  and  Spain  may  thank  her  invaders 
for  having  preserved  to  her  the  most  beautiful  and  interesting 
of  her  historical  monuments. 

On  the  departure  of  the  French,  they  blew  up  several  towers 
of  the  outer  wall,  and  left  the  fortifications  scarcely  tenable. 
Since  that  time,  the  military  importance  of  the  post  is  at  an 
end.  The  garrison  is  a  handful  of  invalid  soldiers,  whose  prin 
cipal  duty  is  to  guard  some  of  the  outer  towers,  which  serve, 
occasionally,  as  a  prison  of  state ;  and  the  governor,  abandon- 
in  g  the  lofty  hill  of  the  Alhambra,  resides  in  the  centre  oi 
Granada,  for  the  more  convenient  despatch  of  his  official 
duties.  I  cannot  conclude  this  brief  notice  of  the  state  of  the 
fortress,  without  bearing  testimony  to  the  honourable  erertions 
of  its  present  commander,  Don  Francisco  de  Salis  Serna,  who 
is  tasking  all  the  limited  resources  at  his  command,  to  put  the 
palace  in  a  state  of  repair;  and  by  his  judicious  precautions 
has  for  some  time  arrested  its  too  certain  decay.  Had  his 
predecessors  discharged  the  duties  of  their  station  with  equal 
fidelity,  the  Alhambra  might  yet  have  remained  in  almost  its 
pristine  beauty ;  were  government  to  second  him  with  means 
equal  to  his  zeal,  this  edifice  might  still  be  preserved  to  adorn 
the  land,  and  to  attract  the  curious  and  enlightened  of  every 
clime,  for  many  generations. 


INTEKIOR  OF  THE  ALHAMBRA. 

THE  Alhambra  has  been  so  often  and  so  minutely  described 
by  travellers,  that  a  mere  sketch  will  probably  be  sufficient 
for  the  reader  to  refresh  his  recollection ;  I  will  give,  therefore, 
a  brief  account  of  our  visit  to  it  the  morning  after  our  arrival 
in  Granada. 

Leavingjour  posada  of  La  Espada,  we  traversed  the  renowned 
square  of  the  Vivarrambla,  once  the  scene  of  Moorish  jousta 
and  tournaments,  now  a  crowded  market  place.  From  thenc« 
we  proceeded  along  the  Zacatin.  the  main  street  of  what  was 


OP  THE  ALHAMBRA.  ^ 

the  great  Baaaar,  in  the  time  of  the  Moors,  where  the  small 
shops  and  narrow  alleys  still  retain  their  Oriental  character. 
Crossing  an  open  place  in  front  of  the  palace  of  the  captain- 
general,  we  ascended  a  confined  and  winding  street,  the  name 
of  which  reminded  us  of  the  chivalric  days  of  Granada.  It  is 
called  the  Calle,  or  street  of  the  Gomeres:  from  a  Moorish 
family,  famous  in  chronicle  and  song.  This  street  led  up  to  a 
mansion  gateway  of  Grecian  architecture,  built  by  Charles  V., 
forming  the  entrance  to  the  domains  of  the  Alhambra. 

At  the  gate  were  two  or  three  ragged  and  superannuated 
soldiers,  dozing  on  a  stone  bench,  the  successors  of  the  Zegris 
and  the  Abencerrages ;  while  a  taU,  meagre  varlet,  whose 
rusty  brown  cloak  was,  evidently,  intended  to  conceal  the 
ragged  state  of  his  nether  garments,  was  lounging  in  the  sun 
shine,  and  gossipping  with  an  ancient  sentinel,  on  duty.  He 
joined  us  as  we  entered  the  gate,  and  offered  his  services  to 
showed  us  the  fortress. 

I  have  a  traveller's  dislike  to  officious  ciceroni,  and  did  not 
altogether  like  the  garb  of  the  applicant : 

"  You  are  well  acquainted  with  the  place,  I  presume?" 
"  Ninguno  mas — pues,  sefior,  soy  hijo  de  la  Alhambra." 
(Nobody  better — in  fact,  sir,  I  am  a  son  of  the  Alhambra.) 
The  common  Spaniards  have  certainly  a  most  poetical  way  of 
expressing  themselves — "A  son  of  the  Alhambra:"  the  appel 
lation  caught  me  at  once ;  the  very  tattered  garb  of  my  new 
acquaintance  assumed  a  dignity  in  my  eyes.    It  was  emble 
matic  of  the  features  of  the  place,  and  became  the  progeny  of  a 
ruin. 

I  put  some  further  questions  to  him,  and  found  his  title  was 
legitimate.  His  family  had  lived  in  the  fortress  from  genera 
tion  to  generation  ever  since  the  time  of  the  conquest.  His 
name  was  Mateo  Ximenes.  "Then,  perhaps,"  said  I,  "you 
may  be  a  descendant  from  the  great  Cardinal  Ximenes." 

"Dios  sabe!  God  knows,  sefior.  It  may  be  so.  We  are  the 
oldest  family  in  the  Alhambra.  Viejos  Cristianos,  old  Chris 
tians,  without  any  taint  of  Moor  or  Jew.  I  know  we  belong  to 
some  great  family  or  other,  but  I  forget  who.  My  father 
knows  all  about  it.  He  has  the  coat  of  arms  hanging  up  in 
his  cottage,  up  in  the  fortress."— There  is  never  a  Spaniard, 
however  poor,  but  has  some  claim  to  high  pedigree.  The  first 
title  of  this  ragged  worthy,  however,  had  completely  captivated 
me,  so  I  gladly  accepted  the  services  of  the  "son  of  the  Al 
hambra." 


24  THE  ALHAMBRA. 

We  now  found  ourselves  in  a  deep  narrow  ravine,  filled  with 
beautiful  groves,  with  a  steep  avenue  and  various  foot-paths 
winding  through  it,  bordered  with  stone  seats  and  ornamented 
with  fountains.  To  our  left,  we  beheld  the  towers  of  the  Al- 
hambra  beetling  above  us ;  to  our  right,  on  the  opposite  side  of 
the  ravine,  we  were  equally  dominated  by  rival  towers  on  a 
rocky  eminence.  These,  we  were  told,  were  the  Torres  Vert 
mejos,  or  Vermilion  towers,  so  called  from  their  ruddy  hue. 
No  one  knows  their  origin.  They  are  of  a  date  much  anterior 
to  the  Alhambra.  Some  suppose  them  to  have  been  built  by 
the  Romans ;  others,  by  some  wandering  colony  of  Phoenicians. 
Ascending  the  steep  and  shady  avenue,  we  arrived  at  tho  foot 
of  a  huge  square  Moorish  tower,  forming  a  kind  of  barbican, 
through  which  passed  the  main  entrance  to  the  fortress. 
Within  the  barbican  was  another  group  of  veteran  invalids, 
one  mounting  guard  at  the  portal,  while  the  rest,  wrapped  in 
their  tattered  cloaks,  slept  on  the  stone  benches.  This  portal 
is  called  the  Gate  of  Justice,  from  the  tribunal  held  within  its 
porch  during  the  Moslem  domination,  for  the  immediate  trial 
of  petty  causes ;  a  custom  common  to  the  Oriental  nations,  and 
occasionally  alluded  to  in  the  sacred  Scriptures. 

The  great  vestibule,  or  porch  of  the  gate,  is  formed  by  an 
immense  Arabian  arch  of  the  horseshoe  form,  which  springs 
to  half  the  height  of  the  tower.  On  the  key-stone  of  this  arch 
is  engraven  a  gigantic  hand.  Within  the  vestibule,  on  the 
key-stone  of  the  portal,  is  engraven,  in  like  manner,  a  gigantic 
key.  Those  who  pretend  to  some  knowledge  of  Mahometan 
svmbols,  affirm,  that  the  hand  is  the  emblem  of  doctrine,  and 
the  key,  of  faith ;  the  latter,  they  add,  was  emblazoned  on  the 
standard  of  the  Moslems  when  they  subdued  Andalusia,  in  op 
position  to  the  Christian  emblem  of  the  cross.  A  different  ex 
planation,  however,  was  given  by  the  legitimate  "son  of  the 
Alhambra,"  and  one  more  in  unison  with  the  notions  of  the 
common  people,  who  attach  something  of  mystery  and  magic 
to  everything  Moorish,  and  have  all  kinds  of  superstitions 
con-nected  with  this  old  Moslem  fortress. 

According  to  Mateo,  it  was  a  tradition  handed  down  from 
the  oldest  inhabitants,  and  which  he  had  from  his  father  and 
grandfather,  that  the  hand  and  key  were  magical  devices  on 
which  the  fate  of  the  Alhambra  depended.  The  Moorish  long 
who  built  it  was  a  great  magician,  and,  as  some  believed,  had 
sold  himself  to  the  devil,  and  had  laid  the  whole  fortress  under 
\  majev?  apell.  Bj  this  means  it  had  remained  standing  for 


INTERIOR  OF  THE  ALHAMBRA.  25 

several  hundred  years,  in  defiance  of  storms  and  earthquakes, 
while  almost  all  the  other  buildings  of  the  Moors  had  fallen  to 
ruin  and  disappeared.  The  spell,  the  tradition  went  on  to  say, 
would  last  until  the  hand  on  the  outer  arch  should  reach  down 
and  grasp  the  key,  when  the  whole  pile  would  tumble  to  pieces, 
and  all  the  treasures  buried  beneath  it  by  the  Moors  would  be 
revealed.  , 

Notwithstanding  this  ominous  prediction,  we  ventured  to 
pass  through  the  spell-bound  gateway,  feeling  some  little  as 
surance  against  magic  art  in  the  protection  of  the  Virgin,  a 
statue  of  whom  we  observed  above  the  portal. 

After  passing  through  the  Barbican,  we  ascended  a  narrow 
lane,  winding  between  walls,  and  came  on  an  open  esplanade 
within  the  fortress,  called  the  Plaza  de  los  Algibes,  or  Place  of 
the  Cisterns,  from  great  reservoirs  which  undermine  it,  cut  in 
the  living  rock  by  the  Moors,  for  the  supply  of  the  fortress. 
Here,  also,  is  a  well  of  immense  depth,  furnishing  the  purest 
and  coldest  of  water, — another  monument  of  the  delicate  taste 
of  the  Moors,  who  were  indefatigable  in  their  exertions  to  ob 
tain  that  element  in  its  crystal  purity. 

In  front  of  this  esplanade  is  the  splendid  pile,  commenced  by 
Charles  V.,  intended,  it  is  said,  to  eclipse  the  residence  of  the 
Moslem  kings.  With  all  its  grandeur  and  architectural  merit, 
it  appeared  to  us  like  an  arrogant  intrusion,  and  passing  by  it 
we  entered  a  simple  unostentatious  portal,  opening  into  the  in 
terior  of  the  Moorish  palace. 

The  transition  was  almost  magical ;  it  seemed  as  if  we  were 
at  once  transported  into  other  times  and  another  realm,  and 
were  treading  the  scenes  of  Arabian  story.  We  found  our 
selves  in  a  great  court  paved  with  white  marble  and  decorated 
at  each  end  with  light  Moorish  peristyles.  It  is  called  the 
court  of  the  Alberca.  In  the  centre  was  an  immense  basin,  or 
fish-pool,  a  hundred  and  thirty  feet  in  length,  by  thirty  in 
breadth,  stocked  with  gold-fish,  and  bordered  by  hedges  of 
roses.  At  the  upper  end  of  this  court,  rose  the  great  tower  of 
Comares. 

From  the  lower  end,  we  passed  through  a  Moorish  arch-way 
into  the  renowned  Court  of  Lions.  There  is  no  part  of  the  edi 
fice  that  gives  us  a  more  complete  idea  of  its  original  beauty 
»nd  magnificence  than  this ;  for  none  has  suffered  so  little  from 
the  ravages  of  time.  In  the  centre  stands  the  fountain  famous 
in  song  and  story.  The  alabaster  basins  still  shed  their  diar 
mond  drops,  and  the  twelve  lions  which  support  them,  cast 


26  THE  ALHAMBRA. 

forth  their  crystal  streams  as  in  the  days  ot  Boabdil.  T 
court  is  laid  out  in  flower  beds,  and  surrounded  by  light  Ara 
bian  arcades  of  open  filigree  work,  supported  by  slender  pil 
lars  of  white  marble.  The  architecture,  like  that  of  all  the 
other  parts  of  the  palace,  is  characterized  by  elegance,  rather 
than  grandeur,  bespeaking  a  delicate  and  graceful  taste,  and  & 
disposition  to  indolent  enjoyment.  When  we  look  upon  the 
fairy  tracery  of  the  peristyles,  and  the  apparently  fragile  fret 
work  of  the  walls,  it  is  difficult  to  believe  that  so  much  has 
survived  the  wear  and  tear  of  centuries,  the  shocks  of  earth 
quakes,  the  violence  of  war,  and  the  quiet,  though  no  less 
baneful,  pilf erings  of  the  tasteful  traveller.  It  is  almost  suffi 
cient  to  excuse  the  popular  tradition,  that  the  whole  is  pro 
tected  by  a  magic  charm. 

On  one  side  of  the  court,  a  portal  richly  adorned  opens  into 
a  lofty  hall  paved  with  white  marble,  and  called  the  Hall  of 
the  two  Sisters.  A  cupola  or  lantern  admits  a  tempered  light 
from  above,  and  a  free  circulation  of  air.  The  lower  part  of 
the  walls  is  incrusted  with  beautiful  Moorish  tiles,  on  some  of 
which  are  emblazoned  the  escutcheons  of  the  Moorish  mon- 
archs :  the  upper  part  is  faced  with  the  fine  stucco  work  in 
vented  at  Damascus,  consisting  of  large  plates  cast  in  moulds 
and  artfully  joined,  so  as  to  have  the  appearance  of  having 
been  laboriously  sculptured  by  the  hand  into  light  relievos  and 
fanciful  arabesques,  intermingled  with  texts  of  the  Koran,  and 
poetical  inscriptions  in  Arabian  and  Celtic  characters.  These 
decorations  of  the  walls  and  cupolas  are  richly  gilded,  and  the 
Interstices  panelled  with  lapis  lazuli  and  other  brilliant  and  en 
during  colours.  On  each  side  of  the  wall  are  recesses  for  otto 
mans  and  arches.  Above  an  inner  porch,  is  a  balcony  which 
communicated  with  the  women's  apartment.  The  latticed  bal 
conies  still  remain,  from  whence  the  dark-eyed  beauties  of  the 
harem  might  gaze  unseen  upon  the  entertainments  of  the  hall 
below. 

It  is  impossible  to  contemplate  this  once  favourite  abode  of 
Oriental  manners,  without  feeling  the  early  associations  of 
Arabian  romance,  and  almost  expecting  to  see  the  white  arm 
of  some  mysterious  princess  beckoning  from  the  balcony,  or 
some  dark  eye  sparkling  through  the  lattice.  The  abode  of 
beauty  is  here,  as  if  it  had  been  inhabited  but  yesterday— but 
where  are  the  Zoraydas  and  Linderaxas ! 

On  the  opposite  side  of  the  court  of  Lions,  is  the  hall  of  the 
Abencerrages,  so  called  from  the  gallant  cavaliers  of  that 


INTERIOR  OF  THE  ALHAMBRA.  27 

illustrious  line,  who  were  here  perfidiously  massacred.  There 
are  some  who  doubt  the  whole  truth  of  this  story,  but  our 
humble  attendant,  Mateo,  pointed  out  the  very  wicket  of  the 
portal  through  which  they  are  said  to  have  been  introduced, 
one  by  one,  and  the  white  marble  fountain  in  the  centre  of  the 
hall,  where  they  were  beheaded.  He  showed  us  also  certain 
broad  ruddy  stains  in  the  pavement,  traces  of  their  blood, 
which,  according  to  popular  belief,  can  never  be  effaced. 
Finding  we  listened  to  him  with  easy  faith,  he  added,  that 
there  was  often  heard  at  night,  in  the  Court  of  the  Lions,  a 
low  confused  sound,  resembling  the  murmurings  of  a  multi 
tude;  with  now  and  then  a  faint  tinkling,  like  the  distant 
clank  of  chains.  These  noises  are  probably  produced  by  the 
bubbling  currents  and  tinkling  falls  of  water,  conducted  under 
the  pavement  through  pipes  and  channels  to  supply  the  foun^ 
tains ;  but  according  to  the  legend  of  the  son  of  the  Alhambra, 
they  are  made  by  the  spirits  of  the  murdered  Abencerrages, 
who  nightly  haunt  the  scene  of  their  suffering,  and  invoke  the 
vengeance  of  Heaven  on  their  destroyer. 

From  the  Court  of  Lions,  we  retraced  our  steps  through  the 
court  of  the  Alberca,  or  great  fish-pool,  crossing  which,  we  pro- 
ceeded  to  the  tower  of  Comares,  so  called  from  the  name  of 
the  Arabian  architect.  It  is  of  massive  strength,  and  lofty 
height,  domineering  over  the  rest  of  the  edifice,  and  overhang' 
ing  the  steep  hill-side,  which  descends  abruptly  to  the  banks  of 
the  Darro.  A  Moorish  archway  admitted  us  into  a  vast  and 
lofty  hall,  which  occupies  the  interior  of  the  tower,  and  was 
the  grand  audience  chamber  of  the  Moslem  monarchs,  thence 
called  the  hall  of  Ambassadors.  It  still  bears  the  traces  of 
past  magnificence.  The  walls  are  richly  stuccoed  and  dec 
orated  with  arabesques,  the  vaulted  ceilings  of  cedar  wood, 
almost  lost  in  obscurity  from  its  height,  still  gleam  with  rich 
gilding  and  the  brilliant  tints  of  the  Arabian  pencil.  On  three 
Bides  of  the  saloon  are  deep  windows,  cut  through  the  im 
mense  thickness  of  the  walls,  the  balconies  of  which  look 
down  upon  the  verdant  valley  of  the  Darro,  the  streets  and 
convents  of  the  Albaycin,  and  command  a  prospect  of  the  dis 
tant  Vega.  I  might  go  on  to  describe  the  other  delightful 
apartments  of  this  side  of  the  palace ;  the  Tocador  or  t»ilet  of 
the  Queen,  an  open  belvedere  tn  the  summit  of  the  tower, 
where  the  Moorish  sultanas  enjoyed  the  pure  breezes  from  the 
mountain  and  the  prospect  of  the  surrounding  paradise.  The 
secluded  little  patio  or  garden  of  Lindaraxa,  with  its  alabaster 


28  THE  ALHAMBRA. 

fountain,  its  thickets  of  roses  and  myrtles,  of  citrons  and 
oranges.  The  cool  halls  and  grottoes  of  the  baths,  where  the 
glare  and  heat  of  day  are  tempered  into  a  self -mysterious  light 
and  a  pervading  freshness.  But  I  appear  to  dwell  minutely 
on  these  scenes.  My  object  is  merely  to  give  the  reader  a  gen 
eral  introduction  into  an  abode,  where,  if  disposed,  he  may 
linger  and  loiter  with  me  through  the  remainder  of  this  work, 
gradually  becoming  familiar  with  all  its  beauties. 

An  abundant  supply  of  water,  brought  from  the  mountains 
by  old  Moorish  aqueducts,  circulates  throughout  the  palace, 
supplying  its  baths  and  fish-pools,  sparkling  in  jets  within  its 
halls,  or  murmuring  in  channels  along  the  marble  pavements. 
When  it  has  paid  its  tribute  to  the  royal  pile,  and  visited  its 
gardens  and  pastures,  it  flows  down  the  long  avenue  leading 
to  the  city,  tinkling  in  rills,  gushing  in  fountains,  and  main 
taining  a  perpetual  verdure  in  those  groves  that  embower  and 
beautify  the  whole  hill  of  the  Alhambra. 

Those,  only,  who  have  sojourned  in  the  ardent  climates  of 
the  South,  can  appreciate  the  delights  of  an  abode  combining 
the  breezy  coolness  of  the  mountain  with  the  freshness  and 
verdure  of  the  valley. 

While  the  city  below  pants  with  the  noon-tide  heat,  and  the 
parched  Vega  trembles  to  the  eye,  the  delicate  airs  from  the 
Sierra  Nevada  play  through  the  lofty  halls,  bringing  with 
them  the  sweetness  of  the  surrounding  gardens.  Every  thing 
invites  to  that  indolent  repose,  the  bliss  of  Southern  climes; 
and  while  the  half -shut  eye  looks  out  from  shaded  balconies 
upon  the  glittering  landscape,  the  ear  is  lulled  by  the  rustling 
of  groves,  and  the  murmur  of  running  streams. 


THE  TOWER  OF  COMAEES. 

THE  reader  has  had  a  sketch  of  the  interior  of  the  Alhambra, 
and  may  be  desirous  of  a  general  idea  of  its  vicinity.  The 
morning  is  serene  and  lovely;  the  sun  has  not  gained  suffi 
cient  power  to  destroy  the  freshness  of  the  night;  we  will 
mount  to  the  summit  of  the  tower  of  Comares,  and  take  a 
biixTs-eye  view  of  Granada  and  its  environs. 

Come,  then,  worthy  reader  and  comrade,  follow  my  steps 
into  this  vestibule  ornamented  with  rich  tracery,  which  opens 
to  the  hall  of  Ambassadors.  We  will  not  enter  the  hall,  how- 


THE  TOWER  OF  COM  ARES.  20 

ever,  but  turn  to  the  left,  to  this  small  door,  opening  in  the 
wall.  Have  a  care!  here  are  steep  winding  steps  and  but 
scanty  light.  Yet,  up  this  narrow,  obscure  and  winding  stair 
case,  the  pi-oud  monarchs  of  Granada  and  their  queens  have 
often  ascended  to  the  battlements  of  the  tower  to  watch  the 
approach  of  Christian  armies ;  or  to  gaze  on  the  battles  in  the 
Vega.  At  length  we  are  upon  the  terraced  roof,  and  may  take 
breath  for  a  moment,  while  we  cast  a  general  eye  over  the 
splendid  panorama  of  city  and  country,  of  rocky  mountain, 
verdant  valley  and  fertile  plain ;  of  castle,  cathedral,  Moorish 
towers  and  Gothic  domes,  crumbling  ruins  and  blooming 
groves. 

Let  us  approach  the  battlements  and  cast  our  eyes  imme 
diately  below.  See, — on  this  side  we  have  the  whole  plan  of 
the  Alhambra  laid  open  to  us,  and  can  look  down  into  its 
courts  and  gardens.  At  the  foot  of  the  tower  is  the  Court  of 
the  Alberca  with  its  great  tank  or  fish-pool  bordered  with 
flowers;  and  yonder  is  the  Court  of  Lions,  with  its  famous 
fountain,  and  its  light  Moorish  arcades;  and  in  the  centre  of 
the  pile  is  the  little  garden  of  Lindaraxa,  buried  in  the  heart 
of  the  building,  with  its  roses  and  citrons  and  shrubbery  of 
emerald  green. 

That  belt  of  battlements  studded  with  square  towers,  strag 
gling  round  the  whole  brow  of  the  hill,  is  the  outer  boundary 
of  the  fortress.  Some  of  the  towers,  you  may  perceive,  are  in 
ruins,  and  their  massive  fragments  are  buried  among  vines, 
fig-trees  and  aloes. 

Let  us  look  on  this  northern  side  of  the  tower.  It  is  a  giddy 
height;  the  very  foundations  of  the  tower  rise  above  the 
groves  of  the  steep  hill-side.  And  see,  a  long  fissure  in  the 
massive  walls  shows  that  the  tower  has  been  rent  by  some  of 
the  earthquakes,  which  from  time  to  time  have  thrown  Grana 
da  into  consternation ;  and  which,  sooner  or  later,  must  reduce 
this  crumbling  pile  to  a  mere  mass  of  ruin.  The  deep  narrow 
glen  below  us,  which  gradually  widens  as  it  opens  from  the 
mountains,  is  the  valley  of  the  Darro ;  you  see  the  little  river 
winding  its  way  under  embowered  terraces,  and  among  or 
chards  and  flower  gardens.  It  is  a  stream  famous  in  old  times 
for  yielding  gold,  and  its  sands  are  still  sifted,  occasionally,  in 
search  of  the  precious  ore. 

Some  of  those  white  pavilions  which  here  and  there  gleam 
from  among  groves  and  vineyards,  were  rustic  retreats  of  the 
Moors,  to  enjoy  the  refreshment  oj  their  gardens. 


30  THE  ALHAMBRA. 

The  airy  palace  with  its  tall  white  towers  and  long  arcades, 
which  breast  yon  mountain,  among  pompous  groves  and  hang 
ing  gardens,  is  the  Generalise,  a  summer  palace  of  the  Moor 
ish  kings,  to  which  they  resorted  during  the  sultry  months, 
to  enjoy  a  still  more  breezy  region  than  that  of  the  Alhambra. 
The  naked  summit  of  the  height  above  it,  where  you  behold 
some  shapeless  ruins,  is  the  Silla  del  Moro,  or  seat  of  the  Moor; 
so  called  from  having  been  a  retreat  of  the  unfortunate  Boab- 
dil,  during  the  time  of  an  insurrection,  where  he  seated  himself 
and  looked  down  mournfully  upon  his  rebellious  city. 

A  murmuring  sound  of  water  now  and  then  rises  from  the 
valley.  It  is  from  the  aqueduct  of  yon  Moorish  mill  nearly  at 
the  foot  of  the  hill.  The  avenue  of  trees  beyond,  is  the  Ala- 
meda  along  the  bank  of  the  Darro,  a  favourite  resort  in  even 
ings,  and  a  rendezvous  of  lovers  in  the  summer  nights,  when 
the  guitar  may  be  heard  at  a  late  hour  from  the  benches  along 
its  walks.  At  present  there  are  but  a  few  loitering  monks  to 
be  seen  there,  and  a  group  of  water  carriers  from  the  fountain 
of  Avellanos. 

You  start !  'Tis  nothing  but  a  hawk  we  have  frightened 
from  his  nest.  This  old  tower  is  a  complete  brooding-place  for 
vagrant  birds.  The  swallow  and  martlet  abound  in  every 
chink  and  cranny,  and  circle  about  it  the  whole  day  long ; 
while  at  night,  when  all  other  birds  have  gone  to  rest,  the  mop 
ing  owl  comes  out  of  its  lurking  place,  and  utters  its  boding 
cry  from  the  battlements.  See  how  the  hawk  we  have  dis 
lodged  sweeps  away  below  us,  skimming  over  the  tops  of  the 
trees,  and  sailing  up  to  ruins  above  the  Generaliffe. 

Let  us  leave  this  side  of  the  tower  and  turn  our  eyes  to  the 
west.  Here  you  behold  in  the  distance  a  range  of  mountains 
bounding  the  Vega,  the  ancient  barrier  between  Moslem  Grana 
da  and  the  land  of  the  Christians.  Among  the  heights  you 
may  still  discern  warrior  towns,  whose  gray  walls  and  battle 
ments  seem  of  a  piece  with  the  rocks  on  which  they  are  built ; 
while  here  and  there  is  a  solitary  atalaya  or  watch-tower, 
mounted  on  some  lofty  point,  and  looking  down  as  if  it  were 
from  the  sky,  into  the  valleys  on  either  side.  It  was  down  the 
defiles  of  these  mountains,  by  the  pass  of  Lope,  that  the  Chris 
tian  armios  descended  into  the  Vega.  It  was  round  the  base 
of  yon  gray  and  naked  mountain,  almost  insulated  from  the 
rest,  and  stretching  its  bald  rocky  promontory  into  the  bosom 
of  the  plain,  that  the  invading  squadrons  would  come  bxirsting 
into  view,  with  flaunting  banners  and  the  clangour  of  drums 


THE  TOWER  OF  COMARES.  81 

and  trumpets.  How  changed  is  the  scene?  instead  of  the 
glittering  line  of  mailed  warriors,  we  behold  the  patient  train 
of  the  toilful  muleteer,  slowly  moving  along  the  skirts  of  the 
mountain. 

Behind  that  promontory,  is  the  eventful  bridge  of  Pinos, 
renowned  for  many  a  bloody  strife  between  Moors  and  Chris 
tians  ;  but  still  more  renowned  as  being  the  place  Avhere  Co- 
Iambus  was  overtaken  and  called  back  by  the  messenger  of 
Queen  Isabella,  just  as  he  was  departing  in  despair  to  carry 
his  project  of  discovery  to  the  court  of  France. 

Behold  another  place  famous  in  the  history  of  the  discoverer: 
yon  line  of  walls  and  towers,  gleaming  in  the  morning  sun  in 
the  very  centre  of  the  Vega ;  the  city  of  Santa  Fe,  built  by  the 
Catholic  sovereigns  during  the  siege  of  Granada,  after  a  con 
flagration  had  destroyed  their  camp.  It  was  to  these  walls 
that  Columbus  was  called  back  by  the  heroic  queen,  and  within 
them  the  treaty  was  concluded  that  led  to  the  discovery  of  the 
Western  World. 

Here,  towards  the  south,  the  eye  revels  on  the  luxuriant 
beauties  of  the  Vega ;  a  blooming  wilderness  of  grove  and  gar 
den,  and  teeming  orchards;  with  the  Xenil  winding  through 
it  in  silver  links  and  feeding  innumerable  rills,  conducted 
through  ancient  Moorish  channels,  which  maintain  the  land 
scape  in  perpetual  verdure.  Here  are  the  beloved  bowers  and 
gardens,  and  rural  retreats  for  which  the  Moors  fought  with 
such  desperate  valour.  The  very  farm-houses  and  hovels 
which  are  now  inhabited  by  the  boors,  retain  traces  of  ara 
besques  and  other  tasteful  decorations,  which  show  them  to 
have  been  elegant  residences  in  the  days  of  the  Moslems. 

Beyond  the  embowered  region  of  the  Vega  you  behold,  to 
the  south,  a  line  of  arid  hills  down  which  a  long  train  of  mules 
is  slowly  moving.  It  was  from  the  summit  of  one  of  those 
hills  that  the  unfortunate  Boabdil  cast  back  his  last  look  upon 
Granada  and  gave  vent  to  the  agony  of  his  soul.  It  is  the  spot 
famous  in  song  and  story,  ' '  The  last  sigh  of  the  Moor. " 

Now  raise  your  eyes  to  the  snowy  summit  of  yon  pile  of 
mountains,  shining  like  a  white  summer  cloud  on  the  blue  sky. 
It  is  the  Sierra  Nevada,  the  pride  and  delight  of  Granada ;  the 
source  of  her  cooling  breezes  and  perpetual  verdure,  of  her 
gushing  fountains  and  perennial  streams.  It  is  this  glorious 
pile  of  mountains  that  gives  to  Granada  that  combination  of 
delights  so  rare  in  a  southern  city.  The  fresh  vegetation,  and 
the  temperate  airs  of  a  northern  climate,  with  the  vivifying 


82  THE  ALUAMBRA. 

ardour  of  a  tropical  sun,  and  the  cloudless  azure  of  a  soutnera 
sky.  It  is  this  aerial  treasury  of  snow,  which,  inciting  in 
proportion  to  the  increase  of  the  summer  heat,  sends  down 
rivulets  and  streams  through  every  glen  and  gorge  of  the  Al- 
puxarras,  diffusing  emerald  verdure  and  fertility  throughout  a 
chain  of  happy  and  sequestered  valleys. 

These  mountains  may  well  be  called  the  glory  of  Granada. 
They  dominate  the  whole  extent  of  Andalusia,  and  may  b« 
seen  from  its  most  distant  parts.  The  muleteer  hails  them  as 
he  views  their  frosty  peaks  from  the  sultry  level  of  the  plain ; 
and  the  Spanish  mariner  on  the  deck  of  his  bark,  far,  far  off, 
on  the  bosom  of  the  blue  Mediterranean,  watches  them  with  a 
pensive  eye,  thinks  of  delightful  Granada,  and  chants  in  low 
voice  some  old  romance  about  the  Moors. 

But  enough,  the  sun  is  high  above  the  mountains,  and  is 
pouring  his  full  fervour  upon  our  heads.  Already  the  terraced 
roof  of  the  town  is  hot  beneath  our  feet,  let  us  abandon  it,  and 
descend  and  refresh  ourselves  under  the  arcades  by  the  foun 
tain  of  the  Lions. 


REFLECTIONS 

ON  THE  MOSLEM  DOMINATION  IN  SPAIN. 

ONE  of  my  favourite  resorts  is  the  balcony  of  the  central 
window  of  the  Hall  of  Ambassadors,  in  the  lofty  tower  of 
Comares.  I  have  just  been  seated  there,  enjoying  the  close  of 
a  long  brilliant  day.  The  sun,  as  he  sank  behind  the  purple 
mountains  of  Alhama,  sent  a  stream  of  effulgence  up  the  val 
ley  of  the  Darro,  that  spread  a  melancholy  pomp  over  the 
ruddy  towers  of  the  Alhambra,  while  the  Vega,  covered  with 
a  slight  sultry  vapour  that  caught  the  setting  ray,  seemed 
spread  out  in  the  distance  like  a  golden  sea.  Not  a  breath  of 
air  disturbed  the  stillness  of  the  hour,  and  though  the  faint 
Bound  of  music  and  merriment  now  and  then  arose  from  the 
gardens  of  the  Darro,  it  but  rendered  more  impressive  the 
monumental  silence  of  the  pile  which  overshadowed  me.  It 
was  one  of  those  hours  and  scenes  in  which  memory  asserts  an 
almost  magical  power,  and,  like  the  evening  sun  beaming  on 
these  mouldering  towers,  sends  back  her  retrospective  rays  to 
light  up  the  glories  of  the  past. 


REFLECTIONS.  33 

As  I  sat  watching  the  effect  of  the  declining  daylight  upon 
this  Moorish  pile,  I  was  led  into  a  consideration  of  the  light, 
elegant  and  voluptuous  character  prevalent  throughout  its 
internal  architecture,  and  to  contrast  it  with  the  grand  but 
gloomy  solemnity  of  the  Gothic  edifices,  reared  by  the  Spanish 
conquerors.  The  very  architecture  thus  bespeaks  the  opposite 
and  irreconcilable  natures  of  the  two  warlike  people,  who  so 
long  battled  here  for  the  mastery  of  the  Peninsula.  By  de 
grees  I  fell  into  a  course  of  musing  upon  the  singular  features 
of  the  Arabian  or  Morisco  Spaniards,  whose  whole  existence  is 
as  a  tale  that  is  told,  and  certainly  forms  one  of  the  most 
anomalous  yet  splendid  episodes  in  history.  Potent  and  dura 
ble  as  was  their  dominion,  we  have  no  one  distinct  title  by 
which  to  designate  them.  They  were  a  nation,  as  it  were, 
without  a  legitimate  country  or  a  name.  A  remote  wave  of 
the  great  Arabian  inundation,  cast  upon  the  shores  of  Europe, 
they  seemed  to  have  all  the  impetus  of  the  first  rush  of  tha 
torrent.  Their  course  of  conquest  from  the  rock  of  Gibraltar 
to  the  cliffs  of  the  Pyrenees,  was  as  rapid  and  brilliant  as  the 
Moslem  victories  of  Syria  and  Egypt.  Nay,  had  they  not 
been  checked  on  the  plains  of  Tours,  all  France,  all  Europe, 
might  have  been  overrun  with  the  same  facility  as  the  empires 
of  the  east,  and  the  crescent  might  at  this  day  have  glittered 
on  the  fanes  of  Paris  and  of  London. 

Repelled  within  the  limits  of  the  Pyrenees,  the  mixed  hordes 
of  Asia  and  Africa  that  formed  this  great  irruption,  gave  up 
the  Moslem  principles  of  conquest,  and  sought  to  establish  in 
Spain  a  peaceful  and  permanent  dominion.  As  conquerors 
their  heroism  was  only  equalled  by  their  moderation ;  and  in 
both,  for  a  time,  they  excelled  the  nations  with  whom  they 
contended.  Severed  from  their  native  homes,  they  loved  the 
land  given  them,  as  they  supposed,  by  Allah,  and  strove  to 
embellish  it  with  every  thing  that  could  administer  to  the 
happiness  of  man.  Laying  the  foundations  of  their  power  in 
a  system  of  wise  and  equitable  laws,  diligently  cultivating  the 
arts  and  sciences,  and  promoting  agriculture,  manufactures, 
and  commerce,  they  gradually  formed  an  empire  unrivalled 
for  its  prosperity,  by  any  of  the  empires  of  Christendom ;  and 
diligently  drawing  round  them  the  graces  and  refinements 
that  marked  the  Arabian  empire  in  the  east  at  the  time  of  its 
greatest  civilization,  they  diffused  the  light  of  oriental  know 
ledge  through  the  western  regions  of  benighted  Europe. 

The  cities  of  Arabian  Spain  became  the  resort  of  Christian 


34  THE  ALHAMBRA. 

artisans,  to  instruct  themselves  in  the  useful  arts.  The  uni 
versities  of  Toledo,  Cordova,  Seville,  and  Granada  were  sought 
by  the  pale  student  from  other  lands,  to  acquaint  himself  with 
the  sciences  of  the  Arabs,  and  the  treasured  lore  of  antiquity ; 
the  lovers  of  the  gay  sciences  resorted  to  Cordova  and  Gra 
nada,  to  imbibe  the  poetry  and  music  of  the  east ;  and  the 
steel-clad  warriors  of  the  north  hastened  thither,  to  accom 
plish  themselves  in  the  graceful  exercises  and  courteous  usages 
of  chivalry. 

If  the  Moslem  monuments  in  Spain;  if  the  Mosque  of  Cor 
dova,  the  Alcazar  of  Seville  and  the  Alhambra  of  Granada, 
still  bear  inscriptions  fondly  boasting  of  the  power  and  per 
manency  of  their  dominion,  can  the  boast  be  derided  as  arro 
gant  and  vain?  Generation  after  generation,  century  after 
century  had  passed  away,  and  still  they  maintained  pos 
session  of  the  land.  A  period  had  elapsed  longer  than  that 
which  has  passed  since  England  was  subjugated  by  the  Nor 
man  conqueror ;  and  the  descendants  of  Musa  and  Tarik  might 
as  little  anticipate  being  driven  into  exile,  across  the  same 
straits  traversed  by  their  triumphant  ancestors,  as  the  de 
scendants  of  Hollo  and  William  and  their  victorious  peers  may 
dream  of  being  driven  back  to  the  shores  of  Normandy. 

With  all  this,  however,  the  Moslem  empire  in  Spain  was  but 
a  brilliant  exotic  that  took  no  permanent  root  in  the  soil  it  em 
bellished.  Severed  from  all  their  neighbours  of  the  west  by 
impassable  barriers  of  faith  and  manners,  and  separated  by 
seas  and  deserts  from  their  kindred  of  the  east,  they  were  an 
isolated  people.  Their  whole  existence  was  a  prolonged  though 
gallant  and  chivalric  struggle  for  a  foot-hold  in  a  usurped  land. 
They  were  the  outposts  and  frontiers  of  Islainism.  The  pen 
insula  was  the  great  battle  ground  where  the  Gothic  con 
querors  of  the  north  and  the  Moslem  conquerors  of  the  east, 
met  and  strove  for  mastery ;  and  the  fiery  courage  of  the  Arab 
was  at  length  subdued  by  the  obstinate  and  persevering  valour 
of  the  Goth. 

Never  was  the  annihilation  of  a  people  more  complete  than 
that  of  the  Morisco  Spaniards.  Where  are  they  ?  Ask  the 
shores  of  Barbary  and  its  desert  places.  The  exiled  remnant 
of  their  once  powerful  empire  disappeared  among  the  bar 
barians  of  Africa,  and  ceased  to  be  a  nation.  They  have  not 
even  left  a  distinct  name  behind  them,  though  for  nearly  eight 
centuries  they  were  a  distinct  people.  The  home  of  their 
adoption  and  of  their  occupation  for  ages  refuses  to  acknow- 


THE  HOUSEHOLD.  35 

ledge  them  but  as  invaders  and  usurpers.  A  few  broken 
monuments  are  all  that  remain  to  bear  witness  to  their  power 
and  dominion,  as  solitary  rocks  left  far  in  the  interior  bear 
testimony  to  the  extent  of  some  vast  inundation.  Such  is  the 
Alhambra.  A  Moslem  pile  in  the  midst  of  a  Christian  land ; 
an  oriental  palace  amidst  the  Gothic  edifices  of  the  west ;  an 
elegant  memento  of  a  brave,  intelligent  and  graceful  people, 
who  conquered,  ruled,  and  passed  away. 


THE  HOUSEHOLD. 

IT  is  time  that  I  give  some  idea  of  my  domestic  arrangements 
in  this  singular  residence.  The  royal  palace  of  the  Alhambra 
Is  intrusted  to  the  care  of  a  good  old  maiden  dame  called  Dona 
Antonia  Molina,  but  who,  according  to  Spanish  custom,  goes 
by  the  more  neighbourly  appellation  of  Tia  Antonia  (Aunt  An 
tonia).  She  maintains  the  Moorish  halls  and  gardens  in  order, 
and  shows  them  to  strangers ;  in  consideration  of  which,  she  is 
allowed  all  the  perquisites  received  from  visitors  and  all  the 
produce  of  the  gardens,  excepting  that  she  is  expected  to  pay 
an  occasional  tribute  of  fruits  and  flowers  to  the  governor. 
Her  residence  is  in  a  corner  of  the  palace,  and  her  family  con 
sists  of  a  nephew  and  niece,  the  children  of  two  different  broth 
ers.  The  nephew,  Manuel  Molina,  is  a  young  man  of  sterling 
worth  and  Spanish  gravity.  He  has  served  in  the  armies  both 
in  Spain  and  the  West  Indies,  but  is  now  studying  medicine  in 
hopes  of  one  day  or  other  becoming  physician  to  the  for 
tress,  a  post  worth  at  least  a  hundred  and  forty  dollars  a  year. 
As  to  the  niece,  she  is  a  plump  little  black-eyed  Andalusian 
damsel  named  Dolores,  but  who  from  her  bright  looks  and. 
cheerful  disposition  merits  a  merrier  name.  She  is  the  declared 
heiress  of  all  her  aunt's  possessions,  consisting  of  certain  ruin 
ous  tenements  in  the  fortress,  yielding  a  revenue  of  about  ono 
hundred  and  fifty  dollars.  I  had  not  been  long  in  the  Alham 
bra  before  I  discovered  that  a  quiet  courtship  was  going  on  be 
tween  the  discreet  Manuel  and  his  bright-eyed  cousin,  and  that 
nothing  was  wanting  to  enable  them  to  join  their  hands  and 
expectations,  but  that  he  should  receive  his  doctor's  diploma, 
and  purchase  a  dispensation  from  the  pope,  on  account  of  their 
consanguinity. 


36  THE  ALHAMBRA. 

With  the  good  dame  Antonia  I  have  made  a  treaty,  accord- 
ing  to  which,  she  furnishes  me  with  board  and  lodging,  while 
the  merry-hearted  little  Dolores  keeps  my  apartment  in  order 
and  officiates  as  handmaid  at  meal  times.  I  have  also  at  my 
command  a  tall,  stuttering,  yellow-haired  lad  named  Pepe, 
who  works  in  the  garden,  and  would  fain  have  acted  as  valet, 
but  in  this  he  was  forestalled  by  Mateo  Ximenes,  "  The  son  of 
the  Alhambra."  This  alert  and  officious  wight  has  managed, 
somehow  or  other,  to  stick  by  me,  ever  since  I  first  encountered 
him  at  the  outer  gate  of  the  fortress,  and  to  weave  himself  into 
all  my  plans,  until  he  has  fairly  appointed  and  installed  him 
self  my  valet,  cicerone,  guide,  guard,  and  historio-graphic 
squire;  and  I  have  been  obliged  to  improve  the  state  of  his 
wardrobe,  that  he  may  not  disgrace  his  various  functions,  BO 
that  he  has  cast  off  his  old  brown  mantle,  as  a  snake  does  his 
akin,  and  now  figures  about  the  fortress  with  a  smart  Andalu- 
sian  hat  and  jacket,  to  his  infinite  satisfaction  and  the  great 
astonishment  of  his  comrades.  The  chief  fault  of  honest  Mateo 
is  an  over-anxiety  to  be  useful.  Conscious  of  having  foisted 
himself  into  my  employ,  and  that  my  simple  and  quiet  habits 
render  his  situation  a  sinecure,  he  is  at  his  wit's  end  to  devise 
modes  of  making  himself  important  to  my  welfare.  I  am  in  a 
manner  the  victim  of  his  officiousness ;  I  cannot  put  my  foot 
over  the  threshold  of  the  palace  to  stroll  about  the  fortress,  but 
he  is  at  my  elbow  to  explain  every  thing  I  see,  and  if  I  venture 
to  ramble  among  the  surrounding  hills,  he  insists  upon  attend 
ing  me  as  a  guard,  though  I  vehemently  suspect  he  would  be 
more  apt  to  trust  to  the  length  of  his  legs  than  the  strength  of 
his  arms  in  case  of  attack.  After  all,  however,  the  poor  fellow 
is  at  times  an  amusing  companion;  he  is  simple-minded  and  of 
infinite  good  humour,  with  the  loquacity  and  gossip  of  a  village 
barber,  and  knows  all  the  small  talk  of  the  place  and  its  envi 
rons;  but  what  he  chiefly  values  himself  on  is  his  stock  of  local 
information,  having  the  most  marvellous  stories  to  relate  of 
every  tower,  and  vault  and  gateway  of  the  fortress,  in  all  of 
which  he  places  the  most  implicit  faith. 

Most  of  these  he  has  derived,  according  to  his  own  account, 
from  his  grandfather,  a  little  legendary  tailor,  who  lived  to  the 
age  of  nearly  a  hundred  years,  during  which  he  made  but  two 
migrations  beyond  the  precincts  of  the  fortress.  His  shop,  for 
the  greater  part  of  a  century,  was  the  resort  of  a  knot  of  vener 
able  gossips,  where  they  would  pass  half  the  night  talking  abou* 
Did  times  and  the  wonderful  events  and  hidden  secrets  of  tbe> 


THE  HOUSEHOLD.  37 

place.  The  whole  living,  moving,  thinking  and  acting  of  this 
little  historical  tailor,  had  thus  been  bounded  by  the  walls  ol 
the  Alhambra ;  within  them  he  had  been  born,  within  them  he 
lived,  breathed  and  had  his  being,  within  them  he  died  and 
was  buried.  Fortunately  for  posterity  his  traditionary  lor« 
died  not  with  him.  The  authentic  Mateo,  when  an  urchin, 
used  to  be  an  attentive  listener  to  the  narratives  of  his  grand 
father  and  of  the  gossip  group  assembled  round  the  shop  board, 
and  is  thus  possessed  of  a  stock  of  valuable  knowledge  concern 
ing  the  Alhambra,  not  to  be  found  in  the  books,  and  well 
worthy  the  attention  of  every  curious  traveller. 

Such  are  the  personages  that  contribute  to  my  domestic  com' 
forts  in  the  Alhambra,  and  I  question  whether  any  of  the  po 
tentates,  Moslem  or  Christian,  who  have  preceded  me  in  the 
palace,  have  been  waited  upon  with  greater  fidelity  or  enjoyed 
a  serener  sway. 

When  I  rise  in  the  morning,  Pepe,  the  stuttering  lad,  from 
the  gardens,  brings  me  a  tribute  of  fresh  culled  flowers,  which 
are  afterwards  arranged  in  vases  by  the  skilful  hand  of  Dolores, 
who  takes  no  small  pride  in  the  decorations  of  my  chamber. 
My  meals  are  made  wherever  caprice  dictates,  sometimes  in 
one  of  the  Moorish  halls,  sometimes  under  the  arcades  of  the 
Court  of  Lions,  surrounded  by  flowers  and  fountains;  and 
when  I  walk  out  I  am  conducted  by  the  assiduous  Mateo  to  the 
most  romantic  retreats  of  the  mountains  and  delicious  haunts 
of  the  adjacent  valleys,  not  one  of  which  but  is  the  scene  of 
some  wonderful  tale. 

Though  fond  of  passing  the  greater  part  of  my  day  alone,  yet 
I  occasionally  repair  in  the  evenings  to  the  little  domestic  cir 
cle  of  Dona  Antonia.  This  is  generally  held  in  an  old  Moorish 
chamber,  that  serves  for  kitchen  as  well  as  hall,  a  rude  fire 
place  having  been  made  in  one  corner,  the  smoke  from  which 
has  discoloured  the  walls  and  almost  obliterated  the  ancient 
arabesques.  A  window  with  a  balcony  overhanging  the  bal 
cony  of  the  Darro,  lets  in  the  cool  evening  breeze,  and  here  I 
take  my  frugal  supper  of  fruit  and  milk,  and  mingle  with  the 
conversation  of  the  family.  There  is  a  natural  talent,  or  mother 
wit,  as  it  is  called,  about  the  Spaniards,  which  renders  them 
intellectual  and  agreeable  companions,  whatever  may  be  their 
condition  in  life,  or  however  imperfect  may  have  been  their 
education ;  add  to  this,  they  are  never  vulgar ;  nature  has  en 
dowed  them  with  an  inherent  dignity  of  spirit.  The  good  Tia 
Antonia  is  a  woman  of  strong  and  intelligent,  though  unculti- 


38  TEE  ALHAMBRA. 

vated  mind,  and  the  bright-eyed  Dolores,  though  she  has  read 
but  three  or  four  books  in  the  whole  course  of  her  life,  has  an 
engaging  mixture  of  naivete  and  good  sense,  and  often  sur 
prises  me  by  the  pungency  of  her  artless  sallies.  Sometimes 
the  nephew  entertains  us  by  reading  some  old  comedy  of  Cal- 
deron  or  Lope  de  Vega,  to  which  he  is  evidently  prompted  by 
a  desire  to  improve  as  well  as  amuse  his  cousin  Dolores,  though 
to  his  great  mortification  the  little  damsel  generally  f  alls  asleep 
before  the  first  act  is  completed.  Sometimes  Tia  Antonia  has 
a  little  bevy  of  humble  friends  and  dependants,  the  inhabitants 
of  the  adjacent  hamlet,  or  the  wives  of  the  invalid  soldiers. 
These  look  up  to  her  with  great  deference  as  the  custodian  of 
the  palace,  and  pay  their  court  to  her  by  bringing  the  news  of 
the  place,  or  the  rumours  that  may  have  straggled  up  from 
Granada.  In  listening  to  the  evening  gossipings,  I  have  picked 
up  many  curious  facts,  illustrative  of  the  manners  of  the  people 
and  the  peculiarities  of  the  neighbourhood. 

These  are  simple  details  of  simple  pleasures ;  it  is  the  nature 
of  the  place  alone  that  gives  them  interest  and  importance.  I 
tread  haunted  ground  and  am  surrounded  by  romantic  asso- 
«iations.  From  earliest  boyhood,  when,  on  the  banks  of  the 
Hudson,  I  first  pored  over  the  pages  of  an  old  Spanish  story 
about  the  wars  of  Granada,  that  city  has  ever  been  a  subject 
of  my  waking  dreams,  and  often  have  I  trod  in  fancy  the 
romantic  halls  of  the  Alhambra.  Behold  for  once  a  day-dream 
realized ;  yet  I  can  scarcely  credit  my  senses  or  believe  that  I 
do  indeed  inhabit  the  palace  of  Boabdil,  and  look  down  from 
its  balconies  upon  chivalric  Granada.  As  I  loiter  through  the 
oriental  chambers,  and  hear  the  murmuring  of  fountains  and 
the  song  of  the  nightingale :  as  I  inhale  the  odour  of  the  rose 
and  feel  the  influence  of  the  balmy  climate,  I  am  almost 
tempted  to  fancy  myself  in  the  Paradise  of  Mahomet,  and  that 
the  plump  little  Dolores  is  one  of  the  bright-eyed  Houris,  des 
tined  to  administer  to  the  happiness  of  true  believers. 


THE  TRUANT. 


SINCE  writing  the  foregoing  pages,  we  have  had  a  scene  of 
petty  tribulation  in  the  Alhambra  which  has  thrown  a  cloud 
over  the  sunny  countenance  of  Dolores.  This  little  damsel  has 


THE  TRUANT.  g0 

a  female  passion  for  pets  of  all  kinds,  from  the  superabundant 
kindness  of  her  disposition.  One  of  the  ruined  courts  of  the 
Alhambra  is  thronged  with  her  favourites.  A  stately  peacock 
and  his  hen  seem  to  hold  regal  sway  here,  over  pompous  tur 
keys,  querulous  guinea  fowls,  and  a  rabble  rout  of  common 
cocks  and  hens.  The  great  delight  of  Dolores,  however,  has 
for  some  time  past  been  centred  in  a  youthful  pair  of  pigeons, 
who  have  lately  entered  into  the  holy  state  of  wedlock,  and 
who  have  even  supplanted  a  tortoise  shell  cat  and  kitten  in  her 
affections. 

As  a  tenement  for  them  to  commence  housekeeping  she  had 
fitted  up  a  small  chamber  adjacent  to  the  kitchen,  the  window 
of  which  looked  into  one  of  the  quiet  Moorish  courts.  Here 
they  lived  in  happy  ignorance  of  any  world  beyond  the  court 
and  its  sunny  roofs.  In  vain  they  aspired  to  soar  above  the 
battlements,  or  to  mount  to  the  summit  of  the  towers.  Their 
virtuous  union  was  at  length  crowned  by  two  spotless  and 
milk  white  eggs,  to  the  great  joy  of  their  cherishing  little  mis 
tress.  Nothing  could  be  more  praiseworthy  than  the  conduct 
of  the  young  married  folks  on  this  interesting  occasion.  They 
took  turns  to  sit  upon  the  nest  until  the  eggs  were  hatched, 
and  while  their  callow  progeny  required  warmth  and  shelter. 
While  one  thus  stayed  at  home,  the  other  foraged  abroad  for 
food,  and  brought  home  abundant  supplies. 

This  scene  of  conjugal  felicity  has  suddenly  met  with  a  re 
verse.  Early  this  morning,  as  Dolores  was  feeding  the  male 
pigeon,  she  took  a  fancy  to  give  him  a  peep  at  the  great  world. 
Opening  a  window,  therefore,  which  looks  down  upon  the  val 
ley  of  the  Darro,  she  launched  him  at  once  beyond  the  walls  of 
the  Alhaaibra.  For  the  first  time  in  his  life  the  astonished 
bird  had  to  try  the  full  vigour  of  his  wings.  He  swept  down 
into  the  valley,  and  then  rising  upwards  with  a  surge,  soared 
almost  to  the  clouds.  Never  before  had  he  risen  to  such  a 
height  or  experienced  such  delight  in  flying,  and  like  a  young 
spendthrift,  just  come  to  his  estate,  he  seemed  giddy  with 
excess  of  liberty,  and  with  the  boundless  field  of  action  sud 
denly  opened  to  him.  For  the  whole  day  he  has  been  circling 
about  in  capricious  nights,  from  tower  to  tower  and  from  tree 
to  tree.  Every  attempt  has  been  made  in  vain  to  lure  him 
back,  by  scattering  grain  upon  the  roofs ;  he  seems  to  have  lost 
all  thought  of  home,  of  his  tender  helpmate  and  his  callow 
young.  To  add  to  the  anxiety  of  Dolores,  he  has  been  joined 
by  two  palomas  ladrones»  or  robber  pigeons,  whose  instinct  it 


40  THE  ALHAMBRA. 

is  to  entice  wandering  pigeons  to  their  own  dove-cotes.  The 
fugitive,  like  many  other  thoughtless  youths  on  their  first 
launching  upon  the  world,  seems  quite  fascinated  with  theso 
knowing,  but  graceless,  companions,  who  have  undertaken  to 
show  him  life  and  introduce  him  to  society.  He  has  been 
soaring  with  them  over  all  the  roofs  and  steeples  of  Granada . 
A  thunder  shower  has  passed  over  the  city,  but  he  has  not 
•ought  his  home ;  night  has  closed  in,  and  still  he  comes  not. 
To  deepen  the  pathos  of  the  affair,  the  female  pigeon,  after 
remaining  several  hours  on  the  nest  without  being  relieved,  nt 
length  went  forth  to  seek  her  recreant  mate ;  but  stayed  away 
so  long  that  the  young  ones  perished  for  want  of  the  warmth 
and  shelter  of  the  parent  bosom. 

At  a  late  hour  in  the  evening,  word  was  brought  to  Dolores 
that  the  truant  bird  had  been  seen  upon  the  towers  of  the  Gen- 
eraliffe.  Now,  it  so  happens  that  the  Administrador  of  that 
ancient  palace  has  likewise  a  dove-cote,  among  the  inmates  ol 
which  are  said  to  be  two  or  three  of  these  inveigling  birds,  tho 
terror  of  all  neighbouring  pigeon  fanciers.  Dolores  immedi 
ately  concluded  that  the  two  feathered  sharpers  who  had  been 
seen  with  her  fugitive,  were  these  bloods  of  the  Generaliffe.  A 
council  of  war  was  forthwith  held  in  the  chamber  of  Tia  An- 
tonia.  The  Generaliffe  is  a  distinct  jurisdiction  from  tho 
Alhambra,  and  of  course  some  punctilio,  if  not  jealousy,  exists 
between  their  custodians.  It  was  determined,  therefore,  to 
send  Pepe,  the  stuttering  lad  of  the  gardens,  as  ambassador  to 
the  Administrador,  requesting  that  if  such  fugitive  should  be 
found  in  his  dominions,  he  might  be  given  up  as  a  subject  of 
the  Alhambra.  Pepe  departed,  accordingly,  on  his  diplomatic 
expedition,  through  the  moonlit  groves  and  avenues,  but 
returned  in  an  hour  with  the  afflicting  intelligence  that  no 
such  bird  was  to  be  found  in  the  dove-cote  of  the  Generaliffe. 
The  Administrador,  however,  pledged  his  sovereign  word,  that 
if  such  vagrant  should  appear  there,  even  at  midnight,  ho 
should  instantly  be  arrested  and  sent  back  prisoner  to  his  littl« 
black-eyed  mistress. 

Thus  stands  this  melancholy  affair,  which  has  occasioned 
much  distress  throughout  the  palace,  and  has  sent  the  incon^ 
solable  Dolores  to  a  sleepless  pillow. 

"  Sorrow  endureth  for  a  night,"  says  the  proverb,  "but  joy 
ariseth  in  the  morning."  The  first  object  that  met  my  eyes  on 
leaving  my  room  this  morning  was  Dolores  with  the  truant 
pigeon  in  her  hand,  and  her  eyes  sparkling  with  joy.  He  bad 


THE  AUTHORS  CHAMBER.  41 

appeared  at  an  early  hour  on  the  battlements,  hovering  shyly 
about  from  roof  to  roof,  but  at  length  entered  the  window  and 
surrendered  himself  prisoner.  He  gained  little  credit,  how 
ever,  by  his  return,  for  the  ravenous  manner  in  which  he 
devoured  the  food  set  before  him,  showed  that,  like  the  prodi 
gal  son,  he  had  been  driven  home  by  sheer  famine.  Dolores 
upbraided  him  for  his  faithless  conduct,  calling  him  all  manner 
of  vagrant  names,  though  wornan-like,  she  fondled  him  at  the 
same  time  to  her  bosom  and  covered  him  with  kisses.  I  ob 
served,  however,  that  she  had  taken  care  to  clip  his  wings  to 
prevent  all  future  soarings ;  a  precaution  which  I  mention  for 
the  benefit  of  all  those  who  have  truant  wives  or  wandering 
husbands.  More  than  one  valuable  moral  might  be  drawn 
from  the  story  of  Dolores  and  her  pigeon. 


THE  AUTHOR'S  CHAMBER. 

ON  taking  up  my  abode  in  the  Alhambra,  one  end  of  a  suite 
of  empty  chambers  of  modern  architecture,  intended  for  the 
residence  of  the  governor,  was  fitted  up  for  my  reception.  It 
Vvas  in  front  of  the  palace,  looking  forth  upon  the  esplanade. 
The  farther  end  communiated  with  a  cluster  of  little  chambers, 
partly  Moorish,  partly  modern,  inhabited  by  Tia  Antonia  and 
her  family.  These  terminated  in  a  large  room  which  serves 
the  good  old  dame  for  parlour,  kitchen,  and  hall  of  audience. 
Et  had  boasted  of  some  splendour  in  the  time  of  the  Moors,  but 
a  fire-place  had  been  built  in  one  corner,  the  smoke  from  which 
had  discoloured  the  walls,  nearly  obliterated  the  ornaments, 
and  spread  a  sombre  tint  over  the  whole.  From  these  gloomy 
apartments,  a  narrow  blind  corridor  and  a  dark  winding' 
Btaircase  led  down  an  angle  of  the  tower  of  Comares ;  groping 
down  which,  and  opening  a  small  door  at  the  bottom,  you  are 
suddenly  dazzled  by  emerging  into  the  brilliant  antechamber 
of  the  hall  of  ambassadors,  with  the  fountain  of  the  court  of 
the  Alberca  sparkling  before  you. 

I  was  dissatisfied  with  being  lodged  in  a  modern  and  frontier 
apartment  of  the  palace,  and  longed  to  ensconce  myself  in  the 
Very  heart  of  the  building. 

As  I  was  rambling  one  day  about  the  Moorish  halls,  I  found, 
to.  a  remote  gallery^  a  doorjwhich  I  had  not  before  noticed, 


42  THE  ALHAMBRA. 

communicating  apparently  with  an  extensive  apartment, 
locked  up  from  the  public.  Here  then  was  a  mystery.  Here 
was  the  haunted  wing  of  the  castle.  I  procured  the  key,  how 
ever,  without  difficulty.  The  door  opened  to  a  range  of  vacant 
chambers  of  European  architecture;  though  built  over  a 
Moorish  arcade,  along  the  little  garden  of  Lindaraxa.  There 
were  two  lofty  rooms,  the  ceilings  of  which  were  of  deep  panel 
work  of  cedar,  richly  and  skilfully  carved  with  fruits  and 
flowers,  intermingled  with  grotesque  masks  or  faces;  but 
broken  in  many  places.  The  walls  had  evidently,  in  ancient 
times,  been  hung  with  damask,  but  were  now  naked,  and 
scrawled  over  with  the  insignificant  names  of  aspiring  travel 
lers  ;  the  windows,  which  were  dismantled  and  open  to  wind 
and  weather,  looked  into  the  garden  of  Lindaraxa,  and  the 
orange  and  citron  trees  flung  their  branches  into  the  chambers. 
Beyond  these  rooms  were  two  saloons,  less  lofty,  looking  also 
into  the  garden.  In  the  compartments  of  the  panelled  ceiling 
were  baskets  of  fruit  and  garlands  of  flowers,  painted  by  no 
mean  hand,  and  in  tolerable  preservation.  The  walls  had  also 
been  painted  in  fresco  in  the  Italian  style,  but  the  paintings 
were  nearly  obliterated.  The  windows  were  in  the  same 
shattered  state  as  in  the  other  chambers. 

This  fanciful  suite  of  rooms  terminated  in  an  open  gallery 
with  balustrades,  which  ran  at  right  angles  along  another  side 
of  the  garden.  The  whole  apartment  had  a  delicacy  and 
elegance  in  its  decorations  and  there  was  something  so  choice 
and  sequestered  in  its  situation,  along  this  retired  little  garden, 
that  awakened  an  interest  in  its  history.  I  found,  on  inquiry, 
that  it  was  an  apartment  fitted  up  by  Italian  artists,  in  the 
early  part  of  the  last  century,  at  the  time  when  Philip  V.  and 
the  beautiful  Elizabetta  of  Parma  were  expected  at  the 
Alhambra;  and  was  destined  for  the  queen  and  the  ladies  of 
her  train.  One  of  the  loftiest  chambers  had  been  her  sleeping 
room,  and  a  narrow  staircase  leading  from  it,  though  now 
walled  up,  opened  to  the  delightful  belvedere,  originally  a 
mirador  of  the  Moorish  sultanas,  but  fitted  up  as  a  boudoir  for 
the  fair  Elizabetta,  and  which  still  retains  the  name  of  the 
Tocador,  or  toilette  of  the  queen.  The  sleeping  room  I  have 
mentioned,  commanded  from  one  window  a  prospect  of  the 
Generaliffe,  and  its  embowered  terraces;  under  another  win 
dow  played  the  alabaster  fountain  of  the  garden  of  Lindaraxa. 
That  garden  carried  my  thoughts  still  farther  back,  to  the 
period  of  another  rei^n  of  bcautj",  to  the  days  of  the 


THE  AUTHOR'S  CHAMBER.  43 

sultanas.  "How  beauteous  is  this  garden!"  says  an  Arabic 
inscription,  "where  the  flowers  of  the  earth  vie  with  the  stars 
of  heaven !  what  can  compare  with  the  vase  of  yon  alabaster 
fountain  filled  with  crystal  water?  Nothing  but  the  moon  i» 
her  fulness,  shining  in  the  midst  of  an  unclouded  sky !" 

Centuries  had  elapsed,  yet  how  much  of  this  scene  of  appa 
rently  fragile  beauty  remained !  The  garden  of  Lindaraxa  was 
still  adorned  with  flowers;  the  fountain  still  presented  its 
crystal  mirror :  it  is  true,  the  alabaster  had  lost  its  whiteness, 
and  the  basin  beneath,  overrun  with  weeds,  had  become  the 
nestling  place  of  the  lizard;  but  there  was  something  in  the 
very  decay  that  enhanced  the  interest  of  the  scene,  speaking, 
as  it  did,  of  that  mutability  which  is  the  irrevocable  lot  of  man 
and  all  his  works.  The  desolation,  too,  of  these  chambers,  once 
the  abode  of  the  proud  and  elegant  Elizabetta,  had  a  more 
touching  charm  for  me  than  if  I  had  beheld  them  in  their 
pristine  splendour,  glittering  with  the  pageantry  of  a  court — I 
determined  at  once  to  take  up  my  quarters  in  this  apartment. 

My  determination  excited  great  surprise  in  the  family ;  who 
could  not  imagine  any  rational  inducement  for  the  choice  of 
so  solitary,  remote  and  forlorn  an  apartment.  The  good  Tia 
Antonia  considered  it  highly  dangerous.  The  neighbourhood, 
she  said,  was  infested  by  vagrants;  the  caverns  of  the  adjacent 
hills  swarmed  with  gipsies ;  the  palace  was  ruinous  and  easy 
to  be  entered  in  many  parts;  and  the  rumour  of  a  stranger 
quartered  alone  in  one  of  the  ruined  apartments,  out  of  the 
hearing  of  the  rest  of  the  inhabitants,  might  tempt  unwelcome 
visitors  in  the  night,  especially  as  foreigners  are  always  sup 
posed  to  be  well  stocked  with  money.  Dolores  represented  the 
frightful  loneliness  of  the  place;  nothing  but  bats  and  owls 
flitting  about ;  then  there  were  a  fox  and  a  wild  cat  that  kept 
about  the  vaults  and  roamed  about  at  night. 

I  was  not  to  be  diverted  from  my  humour,  so  calling  in 
the  assistance  of  a  carpenter,  and  the  ever  officious  Mateo 
Ximenes,  the  doors  and  windows  were  soon  placed  in  a  state 
of  tolerable  security. 

With  all  these  precautions,  I  must  confess  the  first  night  I 
passed  in  these  quarters  was  inexpressibly  dreary.  I  was 
escorted  by  the  whole  family  to  my  chamber,  and  there  taking 
leave  of  me,  and  retiring  along  the  waste  antechamber  and 
echoing  galleries,  reminded  me  of  those  hobgoblin  stories, 
where  the  hero  is  left  to  accomplish  the  adventure  of  a 
ha.imted  house. 


44  THE  ALHAMBRA. 

Soon  the  thoughts  of  the  fair  Elizabetta  and  the  beauties  ol 
her  court,  who  had  once  graced  these  chambers,  now  by  a  per 
version  of  fancy  added  to  the  gloom.  Here  was  the  scene  of 
their  transient  gaiety  and  loveliness ;  here  were  the  very  traces 
of  their  elegance  and  enjoyment ;  but  what  and  where  were 
they?— Dust  and  ashes!  tenants  of  the  tomb!  phantoms  of  tho 
memory  I 

A  vague  and  indescribable  awe  was  creeping  over  me.  1 
would  fain  have  ascribed  it  to  the  thoughts  of  robbers,  awakened 
by  the  evening's  conversation,  but  I  felt  that  it  was  something 
more  unusual  and  absurd.  In  a  word,  the  long  buried  impres 
sions  of  the  nursery  were  reviving  and  asserting  their  power 
over  my  imagination.  Every  thing  began  to  be  affected  by 
the  workings  of  my  mind.  The  whispering  of  the  wind  among 
the  citron  trees  beneath  my  window  had  something' sinister.  I 
cast  my  eyes  into  the  garden  of  Lindaraxa ;  the  groves  present 
ed  a  gulf  of  shadows;  the  thickets  had  indistinct  and  ghastly 
shapes.  I  was  glad  to  close  the  window ;  but  my  chamber  it/ 
self  became  infected.  A  bat  had  found  its  way  in,  and  flitted 
about  my  head  and  athwart  my  solitary  lamp ;  the  grotesque 
faces  carved  in  the  cedar  ceiling  seemed  to  mope  and  mow  at 
me. 

Rousing  myself,  and  half  smiling  at  this  temporary  weak' 
ness,  I  resolved  to  brave  it,  and,  taking  lamp  in  hand,  sallied 
forth  to  make  a  tour  of  the  ancient  palace.  Notwithstanding 
every  mental  exertion,  the  task  was  a  severe  one.  The  rays 
of  my  lamp  extended  to  but  a  limited  distance  around  me ;  I 
walked  as  it  were  in  a  mere  halo  of  light,  and  all  beyond 
was  thick  darkness.  The  vaulted  corridors  were  as  caverns; 
the  vaults  of  the  halls  were  lost  in  gloom;  what  unseen  foe 
might  not  be  lurking  before  or  behind  me;  my  own  shadow 
playing  about  the  walls,  and  the  echoes  of  my  own  footsteps 
disturbed  me. 

In  this  excited  state,  as  I  was  traversing  the  great  Hall  of 
Ambassadors,  there  were  added  real  sounds  to  these  conjectural 
fancies.  Low  moans  and  indistinct  ejaculations  seemed  to  rise 
as  it  were  from  beneath  my  feet ;  I  paused  and  listened.  They 
then  appeared  to  resound  from  without  the  tower.  Sometimes 
they  resembled  the  howlings  of  an  animal,  at  others  they  were 
stifled  shrieks,  mingled  with  articulate  ravings.  The  thrilling 
effect  of  these  sounds  in  that  still  hour  and  singular  place,  de 
stroyed  all  inclination  to  continue  my  lonely  perambulation. 
I  returned  to  my  chamber  with  more  alacrity  than  I  had  sallied 


THE  ALHAMBRA  BY  MOONLIGHT.  45 

forth,  and  drew  my  breath  more  freely  when  once  more  within 
its  walls,  and  the  door  bolted  behind  me. 

When  I  awoke  in  the  morning,  with  the  sun  shining  in  at  my 
window,  and  lighting  up  every  part  of  the  building  with  it? 
cheerful  and  truth-telling  beams,  I  could  scarcely  recall  thv 
shadows  and  fancies  conjured  up  by  the  gloom  of  the  preceding 
night ;  or  believe  that  the  scenes  around  me,  so  naked  and  ap 
parent,  could  have  been  clothed  with  such  imaginary  horrors. 

Still  the  dismal  bowlings  and  ejaculations  I  had  heard  were 
not  ideal;  but  they  were  soon  accounted  for,  by  my  handmaid 
Dolores ;  being  the  ravings  of  a  poor  maniac,  a  brother  of  her 
aunt,  who  was  subject  to  violent  paroxysms,  during  which  he 
was  confined  in  ^  vaulted  room  beneath  the  Hall  of  Ambas1 
sadors. 


THE  ALHAMBRA  BY  MOONLIGHT. 

I  HAVE  given  a  picture  of  my  apartment  on  my  first  taking 
possession  of  it;  a  few  evenings  have  produced  a  thorough 
change  in  the  scene  and  in  my  feelings.  The  moon,  which  then 
was  invisible,  has  gradually  gained  upon  the  nights,  and  now 
rolls  in  full  splendour  above  the  towers,  pouring  a  flood  of 
tempered  light  into  every  court  and  hall.  The  garden  beneath 
my  window  is  gently  lighted  up ;  the  orange  and  citron  trees 
are  tipped  with  silver;  the  fountain  sparkles  in  the  moon 
beams,  and  even  the  blush  of  the  rose  is  faintly  visible. 

I  have  sat  for  hours  at  my  window  inhaling  the  sweetness  of 
the  garden,  and  musing  on  the  chequered  features  of  those 
whose  history  is  dimly  shadowed  out  in  the  elegant  memorials 
around.  Sometimes  I  have  issued  forth  at  midnight  when  every 
thing  was  quiet,  and  have  wandered  over  the  whole  building.. 
-Who  can  do  justice  to  a  moonlight  night  in  such  a  climate, 
and  in  such  a  place !  The  temperature  of  an  Andalusian  mid 
night,  in  summer,  is  perfectly  ethereal.  We  seem  lifted  up 
into  a  purer  atmosphere ;  there  is  a  serenity  of  soul,  a  buoyancy 
of  spirits,  an  elasticity  of  frame  that  render  mere  existence 
enjoyment.  The  effect  of  moonlight,  too,  on  the  Alhambra  has 
something  like  enchantment.  Every  rent  and  chasm  of  time, 
every  mouldering  tint  and  w@ather  stain  disappears ;  the  mar 
ble  resumes  its  original  whiteness ;  the  long  colonnades  brighten 
in  the  moon  beams ;  the  halls  are  illuminated  with  a  soften-"  *• 


46  THE  ALHAMBRA. 

fadiance,  until  the  whole  edifice  reminds  one  of  the  enchanted 
palace  of  an  Arabian  tale. 

At  such  time  I  have  ascended  to  the  little  pavilion,  called  the 
Queen's  Toilette,  to  enjoy  its  varied  and  extensive  prospect. 
To  the  right,  the  snowy  summits  of  the  Sierra  Nevada  would 
gleam  like  silver  clouds  against  the  darker  firmament,  and  all 
the  outlines  of  the  mountain  would  be  softened,  yet  delicately 
defined.  My  delight,  however,  would  be  to  lean  over  the  para 
pet  of  the  tocador,  and  gaze  down  upon  Granada,  spread  out 
like  a  map  below  me :  all  buried  in  deep  repose,  and  its  white 
palaces  and  convents  sleeping  as  it  were  in  the  moonshine. 

Sometimes  I  would  hear  the  faint  sounds  of  castanets  from 
some  party  of  dancers  lingering  in  the  Alameda ;  at  other  times 
I  have  heard  the  dubious  tones  of  a  guitar,  and  the  notes  of  a 
single  voice  rising  from  some  solitary  street,  and  have  pictured 
to  myself  some  youthful  cavalier  serenading  his  lady's  window ; 
a  gallant  custom  of  former  days,  but  now  sadly  on  the  decline 
except  in  the  remote  towns  and  villages  of  Spain. 

Such  are  the  scenes  that  have  detained  me  for  many  an  hour 
loitering  about  the  courts  and  balconies  of  the  castle,  enjoying 
that  mixture  of  reverie  and  sensation  which  steal  away  exist 
ence  in  a  southern  climate — and  it  has  been  almost  morning  be 
fore  I  have  retired  to  my  bed,  and  been  lulled  to  sleep  by  the 
falling  waters  of  the  fountain  of  Lindaraxa. 


INHABITANTS  OF  THE  ALHAMBEA. 

I  MATE  often  observed  that  the  more  proudly  a  mansion  has 
been  tenanted  in  the  day  of  its  prosperity,  the  humbler  are  its 
inhabitants  in  the  day  of  its  decline,  and  that  the  palace  of  the 
king  commonly  ends  in  being  the  nestling  place  of  tLc  oeggar. 

The  Alhambra  is  in  a  rapid  state  of  similar  transition: 
whenever  a  tower  falls  to  decay,  it  is  seized  upon  by  some 
tatterdemalion  family,  who  become  joint  tenants  with  the 
bats  and  owls  of  its  gilded  halls,  and  hang  their  rags,  those 
standards  of  poverty,  out  of  its  windows  and  loop-holes. 

I  have  amused  myself  with  remarking  some  of  the  motley 
characters  that  have  thus  usurped  the  ancient  abode  of 
royalty,  and  who  seem  as  if  piqced  here  to  give  a  farcir-nJ 
termination  to  the  drama  •  *i  pride.  One  of  tnese 


INHABITANTS  OF  TEE  ALHAMBRA.  47 

even  bears  the  mockery  of  a  royal  title.  It  is  a  little  old 
woman  named  Maria  Antonia  Sabonea,  but  who  goes  by 
the  appellation  of  la  Reyna  Cuquina,  or  the  cockle  queen. 
She  is  small  enough  to  be  a  fairy,  and  a  fairy  she  may  be 
for  aught  I  can  find  out,  for  no  one  seems  to  know  her 
origin.  Her  habitation  is  a  kind  of  closet  under  the  outer 
-•aircase  of  the  palace,  and  she  sits  in  the  cool  stone  corri 
dor  plying  her  needle  and  singing  from  morning  till  nighty 
i'dth  a  ready  joke  for  every  one  that  passes,  for  though 
one  of  the  poorest,  she  is  one  of  the  merriest  little  women 
breathing.  Her  great  merit  is  a  gift  for  story -telling ;  having, 
I  verily  believe,  as  many  stories  at  her  command  as  the  inex 
haustible  Scheherezade  of  the  thousand  and  one  nights.  Some 
of  these  I  have  heard  her  relate  in  the  evening  terfatlias  of 
Doiia  Antonia,  at  which  she  is  occasionally  an  humble  attend 
ant. 

That  there  must  be  some  fairy  gift  about  this  mysterious 
little  old  woman,  would  appear  from  her  extraordinary  luck, 
since,  notwithstanding  her  being  very  little,  very  ugly,  and 
very  poor,  she  has  had,  according  to  her  own  account,  five 
husbands  and  a  half;  reckoning  as  a  half,  one,  a  young 
dragoon  who  died  during  courtship. 

A  rival  personage  to  this  little  fairy  queen  is  a  portly  old 
fellow  with  a  bottle  nose,  who  goes  about  in  a  rusty  garb, 
with  a  cocked  hat  of  oil  skin  and  a  red  cockade.  He  is  one  of 
the  legitimate  sons  of  the  Alhambra,  and  has  lived  here  all 
his  life,  filling  various  offices ;  such  as  Deputy  Alguazil,  sexton 
of  the  parochial  church,  and  marker  of  a  fives  court  estab 
lished  at  the  foot  of  one  of  the  towers.  He  is  as  poor  as  a  rat, 
but  as  proud  as  he  is  ragged,  boasting  of  his  descent  from  the 
illustrious  house  of  Aguilar,  from  which  sprang  Gonsalvo  of 
Cordova,  the  Grand  Captain.  Nay,  he  actually  bears  the  name 
of  Alonzo  de  Aguilar,  so  renowned  in  the  history  of  the  con 
quest,  though  the  graceless  wags  of  the  fortress  have  given 
him  the  title  of  el  Padre  Santo,  or  the  Holy  Father,  the  usual 
appellation  of  the  pope,  which  I  had  thought  too  sacred  in  the 
eyes  of  true  catholics  to  be  thus  ludicrously  applied.  It  is  a 
whimsical  caprice  of  fortune,  to  present  in  the  grotesque 
person  of  this  tatterdemalion  a  namesake  and  descendant 
of  the  proud  Alonzo  de  Aguilar,  the  mirror  of  Andalusian 
ehivalry,  leading  an  almost  mendicant  existence  about  this 
once  haughty  fortress,  which  his  ancestor  aided  to  reduce; 
yet  such  might  have  been  the  lot  of  the  descendants  of  Aga- 


48  TUJi  AL11AMBHA. 

meinnon  and  Achilles,  had  they  lingered  about  the  ruins  of 
Troy. 

Of  this  motley  community  I  find  the  family  of  my  gossiping 
squire  Mateo  Ximenes  to  form,  from  their  numbers  at  least,  a 
very  important  part.  His  boast  of  being  a  son  of  the  Alhambra 
is  not  unfounded.  This  family  has  inhabited  the  fortress  ever 
since  the  time  of  the  conquest,  handing  down  a  hereditary 
poverty  from  father  to  son,  not  one  of  them  having  ever  been 
known  to  be  worth  a  marevedi.  His  father,  by  trade  a  riband 
weaver,  and  who  succeeded  the  historical  tailor  as  the  head  of 
the  family,  is  now  near  seventy  years  of  age,  and  lives  in  a 
hovel  of  reeds  and  plaster,  built  by  his  own  hands,  just  above 
the  iron  gate.  The  furniture  consists  of  a  crazy  bed,  a  table, 
and  two  or  three  chairs;  a  wooden  chest,  containing  his 
clothes,  and  the  archives  of  his  family;  that  is  to  say,  a 
few  papers  concerning  old  law-suits  which  he  cannot  read; 
but  the  pride  of  his  heart  is  a  blazon  of  the  arms  of  the  family, 
brilliantly  coloured  and  suspended  in  a  frame  against  the  wall, 
clearly  demonstrating  by  its  quarterings  the  various  noble 
houses  with  which  this  poverty-stricken  brood  claim  affinity. 

As  to  Mateo  himself,  he  has  done  his  utmost  to  perpetuate 
his  line ;  having  a  wife,  and  a  numerous  progeny  who  inhabit 
an  almost  dismantled  hovel  in  the  hamlet.  How  they  manage 
to  subsist,  He  only  who  sees  into  all  mysteries  can  tell — the 
subsistence  of  a  Spanish  family  of  the  kind  is  always  a  riddle 
to  me ;  yet  they  do  subsist,  and,  what  is  more,  appear  to  enjoy 
their  existence.  The  wife  takes  her  holyday  stroll  in  the  Paseo 
of  Granada,  with  a  child  in  her  arms,  and  half  a  dozen  at  her 
heels,  and  the  eldest  daughter,  now  verging  into  womanhood, 
dresses  her  hair  with  flowers,  and  dances  gaily  to  the  cas 
tanets. 

There  are  two  classes  of  people  to  whom  life  seems  one  long 
holyday,  the  very  rich  and  the  very  poor;  one  because  they 
need  do  nothing,  the  other  because  they  have  nothing  to  do ; 
but  there  are  none  who  understand  the  art  of  doing  nothing 
and  living  upon  nothing  better  than  the  poor  classes  of  Spain. 
Climate  does  one  half  and  temperament  the  rest.  Give  a 
Spaniard  the  shade  in  summer,  and  the  sun  in  winter,  a  little 
bread,  garlic,  oil  and  garbanzos,  an  old  brown  cloak  and  a 
guitar,  and  let  the  world  roll  on  as  it  pleases.  Talk  of  poverty, 
with  him  it  has  no  disgrace.  It  sits  upon  him  with  a  gran- 
dioso  style,  like  his  ragged  cloak.  He  is  a  hidalgo  even  when 
in  rags. 


THE  BALCONY.  4g 

The  "Sons  of  the  Alhambra"  are  an  eminent  illustration  o! 
this  practical  philosophy.  As  the  Moors  imagined  that  the 
celestial  paradise  hung  over  this  favoured  spot,  so  I  am  in 
clined,  at  times,  to  fancy  that  a  gleam  of  the  golden  age  stiU 
lingers  about  this  ragged  community.  They  possess  nothing, 
they  do  nothing,  they  care  for  nothing.  Yet,  though  ap 
parently  idle  all  the  week,  they  are  as  observant  of  all  holy- 
days  and  saints'  days  as  the  most  laborious  artisan.  Thej 
attend  all  fetes  and  dancings  in  Granada  and  its  vicinitys 
tight  bon-fires  on  the  hills  on  St.  John's  eve,  and  have  lately 
danced  away  the  moonlight  nights,  on  the  harvest  home  of 
a  small  field  of  wheat  within  the  precincts  of  the  fortress. 

Before  concluding  these  remarks  I  must  mention  one  of  the 
amusements  of  the  place  which  has  particularly  struck  me.  I 
had  repeatedly  observed  a  long,  lean  fellow  perched  on  the  top 
of  one  of  the  towers  manoeuvring  two  or  three  fishing  rods,  as 
though  he  was  angling  for  the  stars.  I  was  for  some  time  per 
plexed  by  the  evolutions  of  this  aerial  fisherman,  and  my  per 
plexity  increased  on  observing  others  employed  in  like  manner, 
on  different  parts  of  the  battlements  and  bastions ;  it  was  not 
until  I  consulted  Mateo  Ximenes  that  I  solved  the  mystery. 

It  seems  that  the  pure  and  airy  situation  of  this  fortress  has 
rendered  it,  like  the  castle  of  Macbeth,  a  prolific  breeding-place 
for  swallows  and  martlets,  who  sport  about  its  towers  in 
myriads,  with  the  holyday  glee  of  urchins  just  let  loose 
from  school.  To  entrap  these  birds  in  their  giddy  circlings, 
with  hooks  baited  with  flies,  is  one  of  the  favourite  amuse' 
ments  of  the  ragged  "Sons  of  Wie  Alhambra,"  who,  with  the 
good-for-nothing  ingenuity  of  arrant  idlers,  have  thus  invented 
the  an  of  angling  in  the  sky. 


THE  BALCONY. 

IN  the  Hall  of  Ambassadors,  at  the  central  window,  there  is 
a  balcony  of  which  I  have  already  made  mention.  It  projects 
like  a  cage  from  the  face  of  the  tower,  high  in  mid-air,  above 
the  tops  of  the  trees  that  grow  on  the  steep  hill-side.  It  an 
swers  me  as  a  kind  of  observatory,  where  I  often  take  my  seat 
to  consider,  not  merely  the  heavens  above,  but  the  "earth 
beneath."  Beside  the  magnificent  prospect  which  it  commands, 
of  mountain,  valley,  and  Vega,  there  is  a  busy  little  scene  of 


60  THE  ALHAMBRA. 

human  life  laid  open  to  inspection  immediately  below.  At  th« 
foot  of  the  hill  is  an  alameda  or  public  walk,  which,  though  not 
so  fashionable  as  the  more  modern  and  splendid  paseo  of  tho 
Xenil,  still  boasts  a  varied  and  picturesque  concourse,  especially 
on  holydays  and  Sundays.  Hither  resort  the  small  gentry  of 
the  suburbs,  together  with  priests  and  friars  who  walk  for  appe 
1  tite  and  digestion ;  majos  and  majas,  the  beaux  and  belles  of  the 
lower  classes  in  their  Andalusian  dresses ;  swagging  contraban- 
distas,  and  sometimes  half -muffled  and  mysterious  loungers  of 
the  higher  ranks,  on  some  silent  assignation. 

It  is  a  moving  picture  of  Spanish  life  which  I  delight  to 
study ;  and  as  the  naturalist  has  his  microscope  to  assist  him 
in  his  curious  investigations,  so  I  have  a  small  pocket  telescope 
which  brings  the  countenances  of  the  motley  groups  so  close  as 
almost  at  times  to  make  me  think  I  can  divine  their  conversa 
tion  by  the  play  and  expression  of  their  features.  I  am  thus, 
in  a  manner,  an  invisible  observer,  and  without  quitting  my 
solitude,  can  throw  myself  in  an  instant  into  the  midst  of 
society— a  rare  advantage  to  one  of  somewhat  shy  and  quiet 
habits. 

Then  there  is  a  considerable  suburb  lying  below  the  Alham- 
bra,  filling  the  narrow  gorge  of  tb»  valley,  and  extending  up 
the  opposite  hill  of  the  Albaycit-  Many  of  the  houses  are 
built  in  the  Moorish  style,  round  patios  or  courts  cooled  by 
fountains  and  open  to  the  sky ;  and  as  the  inhabitants  pass 
much  of  their  time  in  these  courts  and  on  the  terraced  roofs 
during  the  summer  season,  it  follows  that  many  a  glance  at 
their  domestic  Me  may  be  obtained  by  an  aerial  spectator  like 
myself,  who  can  look  down  on  them  from  the  clouds. 

I  enjoy,  in  some  degree,  the  advantages  of  the  student  in  the 
famous  old  Spanish  story,  who  beheld  all  Madrid  unroofed  for 
his  inspection ;  and  my  gossipping  squire  Mateo  Ximenes  offi 
ciates  occasionally  as  my  Asmodeus,  to  give  me  anecdotes  of 
the  different  mansions  and  their  inhabitants. 

I  prefer,  however,  to  form  conjectural  histories  for  myself; 
and  thus  can  sit  up  aloft  for  hours,  weaving  from  casual  inci 
dents  and  indications  that  pass  under  my  eye,  the  whole  tissue 
of  schemes,  intrigues  and  occupations,  carrying  on  by  certain 
of  the  busy  mortals  below  us.  There  is  scarce  a  pretty  face  or 
striking  figure  that  I  daily  see,  about  which  I  have  not  thus 
gradually  framed  a  dramatic  story;  though  some  of  my 
characters  will  occassionafly  act  in  direct  opposition  to  the 
part  assigned  them,  and  disconcert  my  whole  drama. 


THE  BALCONY.  51 

A  few  days  since  as  I  was  reconnoitring  with  my  glass  the 
streets  of  the  Albaycin,  I  beheld  the  procession  of  a  novice 
about  to  take  the  veil ;  and  remarked  various  circumstances 
that  excited  the  strongest  sympathy  in  the  fate  of  the  youth 
ful  being  thus  about  to  be  consigned  to  a  living  tomb.  I  ascer 
tained,  to  my  satisfaction,  that  she  was  beautiful ;  and,  by  the 
paleness  of  her  cheek,  that  she  was  a  victim,  rather  than  a 
votary.  She  was  arrayed  in  bridal  garments,  and  decked 
'with  a  chaplet  of  white  flowers ;  but  her  heart  evidently  re 
volted  at  this  mockery  of  a  spiritual  union,  and  yearned  after 
its  earthly  loves.  A  tall  stern-looking  man  walked  near  her 
in  the  procession ;  it  was  evidently  the  tyrannical  father,  who, 
from  some  bigoted  or  sordid  motive,  had  compelled  this  sacrifice. 
Amidst  the  crowd  was  a  dark,  handsome  youth,  in  Andalusian 
garb,  who  seemed  to  fix  on  her  an  eye  of  agony.  It  was  doubt 
less  the  secret  lover  from  whom  she  was  for  ever  to  be  sepa 
rated.  My  indignation  rose  as  I  noted  the  malignant  exulta 
tion  painted  in  the  countenances  of  the  attendant  monks  and 
friars.  The  procession  arrived  at  the  chapel  of  the  convent ;  the 
sun  gleamed  for  the  last  time  upon  the  chaplet  of  the  poor  novice 
as  she  crossed  the  fatal  threshold  and  disappeared  from  sight. 
The  throng  poured  in  with  cowl  and  cross  and  minstrelsy.  The 
lover  paused  for  a  moment  at  the  door;  I  could  understand 
the  tumult  of  his  feelings,  but  he  mastered  them  and  entered. 
There  was  a  long  interval — I  pictured  to  myself  the  scene  pass- 
ing  within. — The  poor  novice  despoiled  of  her  transient  finery 
— clothed  in  the  conventual  garb;  the  bridal  chaplet  taken 
from  her  brow;  her  beautiful  head  shorn  of  its  long  silken 
tresses — I  heard  her  murmur  the  irrevocable  vow — I  saw  her 
extended  on  her  bier ;  the  death  pall  spread  over ;  the  funeral 
service  performed  that  proclaimed  her  dead  to  the  world ;  her 
sighs  were  drowned  in  the  wailing  anthem  of  the  nuns  and  the 
sepulchral  tones  of  the  organ — the  father  looked,  unmoved, 
'without  a  tear — the  lover — no— my  fancy  refused  to  portray 
the  anguish  of  the  lover — there  the  picture  remained  a  blank. 
— The  ceremony  was  over :  the  crowd  again  issued  forth  to  be- 
hold  the  day  and  mingle  in  the  joyous  stir  of  life — but  the 
victim  with  her  bridal  chaplet  was  no  longer  there — the  door  of 
the  convent  closed  that  secured  her  from  the  world  for  ever. 
I  saw  the  father  and  the  lover  issue  forth — they  were  in  ear 
nest  conversation — the  young  man  was  violent  in  his  gestures, 
the  wall  of  a  house  intervened  and  shut  them  from  my 


62  THE  ALHAMBEA. 

Thftt  evening  I  noticed  a  solitary  light  twinkling  from  a  re- 
taote  lattice  of  the  convent.  There,  said  I,  the  unhappy  novice 
Bits  weeping  in  her  cell,  while  her  lover  paces  the  street  belo\t 
In  unavailing  anguish. 

-  The  officious  Mateo  interrupted  my  meditations  and  de- 
Btroved,  in  an  instant,  the  cobweb  tissue  of  my  fancy.  With 
his  usual  zeal  he  had  gathered  facts  concerning  the  scene  that 
had  interested  me.  The  heroine  of  my  romance  was  neither 
young  nor  handsome— she  had  no  lover— she  had  entered  the 
convent  of  her  own  free  will,  as  a  respectable  asylum,  and  was 
one  of  the  cheerf  ulest  residents  within  its  walls ! 

I  felt  at  first  half  vexed  with  the  nun  for  being  thus  happy 
in  her  cell,  in  contradiction  to  all  the  rules  of  romance ;  but 
diverted  my  spleen  by  watching,  for  a  day  or  two,  the  pretty 
coquetries  of  a  dark-eyed  brunette,  who,  from  the  covert  of  a 
balcony  shrouded  with  flowering  shrubs  and  a  silken  awning, 
was  carrying  on  a  mysterious  correspondence  with  a  hand 
some,  dark,  well- whiskered  cavalier  in  the  street  beneath  hor 
window.  Sometimes  I  saw  him  at  an  early  hour,  stealing 
forth,  wrapped  to  the  eyes  in  a  mantle.  Sometimes  he  loitered 
at  the  corner,  in  various  disguises,  apparently  waiting  for  a 
private  signal  to  slip  into  the  bower.  Then  there  was  a  tink 
ling  of  a  guitar  at  night,  and  a  lantern  shifted  from  place  to 
place  in  the  balcony.  I  imagined  another  romantic  intrigue  like 
that  of  Almaviva,  but  was  again  disconcerted  in  all  my  suppo 
sitions  by  being  informed  that  the  supposed  lover  was  the 
husband  of  the  lady,  and  a  noted  contrabandist^  and  that  all 
his  mysterious  signs  and  movements  had  doubtless  some  smug 
gling  scheme  in  view. 

Scarce  had  the  gray  dawn  streaked  the  sky  and  the  earliest 
»ck  crowed  from  the  cottages  of  the  hill-side,  when  the 
suburbs  gave  sign  of  reviving  animation ;  for  the  fresh  hours 
of  dawning  are  precious  in  the  summer  season  in  a  sultry 
climate.  All  are  anxious  to  get  the  start  of  the  sun  in  the 
business  of  the  day.  The  muleteer  drives  forth  his  loaded 
train  for  the  journey ;  the  traveller  slings  his  carbine  behind 
hie  saddle  and  mounts  his  steed  at  the  gate  of  the  hostel.  The 
brown  peasant  urges  his  loitering  donkeys,  laden  with  pan 
niers  of  sunny  fruit  and  fresh  dewy  vegetables ;  for  already 
the  thrifty  housewives  are  hastening  to  the  market. 

The  sun  is  up  and  sparkles  along  the  valley,  topping  the 
transparent  foliage  of  the  groves.  The  matin  bells  resound 
melodiously  through  the  pure  bright  air,  announcing  the  hom 


THE  BALCONY.  53 

of  devotion.  The  muleteer  halts  his  burdened  animals  before 
the  chapel,  thrusts  his  staff  through  his  belt  behind,  and 
enters  with  hat  in  hand,  smoothing  his  coal  black  hair,  to 
hear  a  mass  and  put  up  a  prayer  for  a  prosperous  wayfaring 
across  the  Sierra. 

And  now  steals  forth  with  fairy  foot  the  gentle  Sedk>ra,  in 
trim  busquina ;  with  restless  fan  in  hand  and  dark  eye  flash 
ing  from  beneath  her  gracefully  folded  mantilla.  She  seeks 
some  well  frequented  church  to  offer  up  her  orisons ;  but  the 
nicely  adjusted  dress;  the  dainty  shoe  and  cobweb  stocking; 
the  raven  tresses  scrupulously  braided,  the  fresh  plucked  rose 
that  gleams  among  them  like  a  gem,  show  that  earth  divide* 
with  heaven  the  empire  of  her  thoughts. 

As  the  morning  advances,  the  din  of  labour  augments  on 
every  side ;  the  streets  are  thronged  with  man  and  steed,  and 
beast  of  burden ;  the  universal  movement  produces  a  hum  and 
murmur  like  the  surges  of  the  ocean.  As  the  sun  ascends  to 
his  meridian  the  hum  and  bustle  gradually  decline;  at  the 
height  of  noon  there  is  a  pause ;  the  panting  city  sinks  into 
lassitude,  and  for  several  hours  there  is  a  general  repose. 
The  windows  are  closed ;  the  curtains  drawn ;  the  inhabitants 
retired  into  the  coolest  recesses  of  their  mansions.  The  full- 
fed  monk  snores  in  his  dormitory.  The  brawny  porter  lies 
stretched  on  the  pavement  beside  his  burden.  The  peasant 
and  the  labourer  sleep  beneath  the  trees  of  the  Alameda, 
lulled  by  the  sultry  chirping  of  the  locust.  The  streets  are 
deserted  except  by  the  water  carrier,  who  refreshes  the  ear  by 
proclaiming  the  merits  of  his  sparkling  beverage, — "Colder 
than  mountain  snow." 

As  the  sun  declines,  there  is  again  a  gradual  reviving,  and 
when  the  vesper  bell  rings  out  his  sinking  knell,  all  nature 
seems  to  rejoice  that  the  tyrant  of  the  day  has  fallen. 

Now  begins  the  bustle  of  enjoyment.  The  citizens  pour 
forth  to  breathe  the  evening  air,  and  revel  away  the  brief 
twilight  in  the  walks  and  gardens  of  the  Darro  and  the  Xenil. 

As  the  night  closes,  the  motley  scene  assumes  new  features, 
light  after  light  gradually  twinkles  forth ;  here  a  taper  from 
a  balconied  window ;  there  a  votive  lamp  before  the  image  of 
a  saint.  Thus  by  degrees  the  city  emerges  from  the  pervading 
gloom,  and  sparkles  with  scattered  lights  like  the  starry 
firmament.  Now  break  forth  from  court,  and  garden,  and 
street,  and  lane,  the  tinkling  of  innumerable  guitars  and  the 
clicking  of  castanets,  blending  at_  this  lofty  height,  in  a  faint 


54  THE  ALHAMBRA 

and  general  concert.  "Enjoy  the  moment,"  is  the  creed  of 
the  gay  and  amorous  Andalusian,  and  at  no  time  does  he 
practise  it  more  zealously  than  in  the  balmy  nights  of  sum 
mer,  wooing  his  mistress  with  the  dance,  the  love  ditty  and 
the  passionate  serenade. 

I  was  seated  one  evening  in  the  balcony  enjoying  the  light 
breeze  that  came  rustling  along  the  side  of  the  hill  among  the 
tree-tops,  when  my  humble  historiographer,  Mateo,  who  was 
at  my  elbow,  pointed  out  a  spacious  house  in  an  obscure  street 
of  the  Albaycin,  about  which  he  related,  as  nearly  as  I  can 
recollect,  the  following  anecdote. 


THE  ADVENTURE  OF  THE  MASON. 

THERE  was  once  upon  a  time  a  poor  mason,  or  bricklayer,  in 
Granada,  who  kept  all  the  saints'  days  and  holydays,  and  saint 
Monday  into  the  bargain,  and  yet,  with  all  his  devotion,  he 
grew  poorer  and  poorer,  and  could  scarcely  earn  bread  for  his 
numerous  family.  One  night  he  was  roused  from  his  first 
sleep  by  a  knocking  at  his  door.  He  opened  it  and  beheld 
before  him  a  tall,  meagre,  cadaverous-looking  priest.  "Hark 
ye,  honest  friend,"  said  the  stranger,  "I  have  observed  that 
you  are  a  good  Christian,  and  one  to  be  trusted;  will  you 
undertake  a  job  this  very  night?" 

"With  all  my  heart,  Sefior  Padre,  on  condition  that  I  am 
paid  accordingly." 

"That  you  shall  be,  but  you  must  suffer  yourself  to  be 
blindfolded." 

To  this  the  mason  made  no  objection ;  so  being  hoodwinked, 
he  was  led  by  the  priest  through  various  rough  lanes  and 
winding  passages  until  they  stopped  before  the  portal  of  a 
house.  The  priest  then  applied  a  key,  turned  a  creaking  lock 
and  opened  what  sounded  like  a  ponderous  door.  They  en 
tered,  the  door  was  closed  and  bolted,  and  the  mason  was 
conducted  through  an  echoing  corridor  and  spacious  hall,  to 
an  interior  part  of  the  building.  Here  the  bandage  was  re 
moved  from  his  eyes,  and  he  found  himself  in  a  patio,  or 
court,  dimly  lighted  by  a  single  lamp. 

In  the  centre  was  a  dry  basin  of  an  old  Moorish  fountain, 
under  which  the  priest  requested  him  to  form  a  small  vault, 
bricks  and  mortar  being  at  lymd  for  the  purpose.  He  accord 


THE  ADVENTURE  OF  THE  MASON.  55 

ingly  worked  all  night,  but  without  finishing  the  job.  Just 
before  daybreak  the  priest  put  a  piece  of  gold  into  his  hand, 
and  having  again  blindfolded  him,  conducted  him  back  to  his 
dwelling. 

"Are  you  willing,''  said  he,  "to  return  and  complete  your 
work?" 

"  Gladly,  Senor  Padre,  provided  I  am  as  well  paid." 

"Well,  then,  to-morrow  at  midnight  I  will  call  again." 

He  did  so,  and  the  vault  was  completed.  "  Now,"  said  the 
priest,  ' '  you  must  help  me  to  bring  forth  the  bodies  that  are  to 
be  buried  in  this  vault." 

The  poor  mason's  hair  rose  on  his  head  at  these  words ;  he 
followed  the  priest  with  trembling  steps,  into  a  retired  cham 
ber  of  the  mansion,  expecting  to  behold  some  ghastly  spectacle 
of  death,  but  was  relieved,  on  perceiving  three  or  four  portly 
jars  standing  in  one  corner.  They  were  evidently  full  of 
money,  and  it  was  with  great  labour  that  he  and  the  priest 
carried  them  forth  and  consigned  them  to  their  tomb.  The 
vault  was  then  closed,  the  pavement  replaced  and  all  traces 
of  the  work  obliterated. 

The  mason  was  again  hoodwinked  and  led  forth  by  a  route 
different  from  that  by  which  he  had  come.  After  they  had 
wandered  for  a  long  time  through  a  perplexed  maze  of  lanes 
and  alleys,  they  halted.  The  priest  then  put  two  pieces  of  gold 
into  his  hand.  "Wait  here,"  said  he,  "until  you  hear  the 
cathedral  bell  toll  for  matins.  If  you  presume  to  uncover 
your  eyes  before  that  time,  evil  will  befall  you."  So  saying 
he  departed. 

The  mason  waited  faithfully,  amusing  himself  by  weighing 
the  gold  pieces  in  his  hand  and  clinking  them  against  each 
other.  The  moment  the  cathedral  bell  rung  its  matin  peal,  he 
uncovered  his  eyes  and  found  himself  on  the  banks  of  the 
jXenil ;  from  whence  he  made  the  best  of  his  way  home,  and 
revelled  with  his  family  for  a  whole  fortnight  on  the  profits  of 
his  two  nights'  work,  after  which  he  was  as  poor  as  ever. 

He  continued  to  work  a  little  and  pray  a  good  deal,  and 
keep  holydays  and  saints'  days  from  year  to  year,  while  his 
family  grew  up  as  gaunt  and  ragged  as  a  crew  of  gipsies. 

As  he  was  seated  one  morning  at  the  door  of  his  hovel,  he 
was  accosted  by  a  rich  old  curmudgeon  who  was  noted  for 
owning  many  houses  and  being  a  griping  landlord. 

The  man  of  money  eyed  him  for  a  moment,  from  beneath  a 
pair  of  shagged  eyebrows^ 


56  THE  AL1IAMBKA. 

"  I  am  told,  friend,  that  you  are  very  poor." 

"  There  is  no  denying  the  fact,  Senor;  it  speaks  for  itself." 

"  I  presume,  then,  you  will  be  glad  of  a  job,  and  will  work 
cheap." 

"As  cheap,  my  master,  as  any  mason  in  Granada." 

"  That's  what  I  want.  I  have  an  old  house  fallen  to  decay, 
that  costs  me  more  money  than  it  is  worth  to  keep  it  in  repair, 
for  nobody  will  live  in  it ;  so  I  must  contrive  to  patch  it  up 
and  keep  it  together  at  as  small  expense  as  possible." 

The  mason  was  accordingly  conducted  to  a  huge  deserted 
house  that  seemed  going  to  ruin.  Passing  through  several 
empty  halls  and  chambers,  he  entered  an  inner  court,  where 
his  eye  was  caught  by  an  old  Moorish  fountain. 

He  paused  for  a  moment.  "It  seems,"  said  he,  "  as  if  I  had 
been  in  this  place  before;  but  it  is  like  a  dream. — Pray  who 
occupied  this  house  formerly?" 

"A  pest  upon  him!"  cried  the  landlord.  "It  was  an  old 
miserly  priest,  who  cared  for  nobody  but  himself.  He  was 
said  to  be  immensely  rich,  and,  having  no  relations,  it  was 
thought  he  would  leave  all  his  treasure  to  the  church.  He 
died  suddenly,  and  the  priests  and  friars  thronged  to  take 
possession  of  his  wealth,  but  nothing  could  they  find  but  a  few 
ducats  in  a  leathern  purse.  The  worst  luck  has  fallen  on 
me ;  for  since  his  death,  the  old  fellow  continues  to  occupy  my 
house  without  paying  rent,  and  there's  no  taking  the  law  of  a 
dead  man.  The  people  pretend  to  hear  at  night  the  clinking 
of  gold  all  night  long  in  the  chamber  where  the  old  priest  slept, 
as  if  he  were  counting  over  his  money,  and  sometimes  a  groan 
ing  and  moaning  about  the  court.  Whether  true  or  false 
these  stories  have  brought  a  bad  name  on  my  house,  and  not  a 
tenant  will  remain  in  it." 

"Enough,"  said  the  mason  sturdily — "Let  me  live  in  your 
house  rent  free  until  some  better  tenant  presents,  and  I  will 
engage  to  put  it  in  repair  and  quiet  the  troubled  spirits  that 
disturb  it.  I  am  a  good  Christian  and  a  poor  man,  and  am  not 
to  be  daunted  by  the  devil  himself,  even  though  he  come  in  the 
shape  of  a  big  bag  of  money." 

The  offer  of  the  honest  mason  was  gladly  accepted;  he 
moved  with  his  family  into  the  house,  and  fulfilled  all  his  en 
gagements.  By  little  and  little  he  restored  it  to  its  former 
state.  The  clinking  of  gold  was  no  longer  heard  at  night  in 
the  chamber  of  the  defunct  priest,  but  began  to  be  heard  by 
day  in  the  pocket  of  the  living  mason.  In  a  word,  he  in- 


A  RAMBLE  AMONG   THE  HILLS.  57 

creased  rapidly  in  wealth,  to  the  admiration  of  all  his  neigh 
bours,  and  became  one  of  the  richest  men  in  Granada.  He 
gave  large  sums  to  the  church,  by  way,  no  doubt,  of  satisfying 
his  conscience,  and  never  revealed  the  secret  of  his  wealth 
until  on  his  deathbed,  to  his  son  and  heir. 


A  RAMBLE  AMONG  THE  HILLS. 

I  FREQUENTLY  amuse  myself  towards  the  close  of  the  day, 
when  the  heat  has  subsided,  with  taking  long  rambles  about 
the  neighbouring  hills  and  the  deep  umbrageous  valleys, 
accompanied  by  my  historiographer  Squire  Mateo,  to  whose 
passion  for  gossiping,  I,  on  such  occasions,  give  the  most  un- 
boundrng  license ;  and  there  is  scarce  a  rock  or  ruin,  or  broken 
fountain,  or  lonely  glen,  about  which  he  has  not  some  mar 
vellous  story ;  or,  above  all,  some  golden  legend ;  for  never  was 
poor  devil  so  munificent  in  dispensing  hidden  treasures. 

A  few  evenings  since  we  took  a  long  stroll  of  the  kind,  in 
which  Mateo  was  more  than  usually  communicative.  It  was 
towards  sunset  that  we  sallied  forth  from  the  great  Gate  of 
Justice,  and  ascending  an  alley  of  trees,  Mateo  paused  under  a 
clump  of  fig  and  pomegranate  trees  at  the  foot  of  a  huge  ruined 
tower,  called  the  Tower  of  the  Seven  Vaults,  (de  los  siete 
euelos.)  Here,  pointing  to  a  low  archway  at  the  foundation  of 
the  tower,  he  informed  me,  in  an  under  tone,  was  the  lurking- 
place  of  a  monstrous  sprite  or  hobgoblin  called  the  Belludo, 
which  had  infested  the  tower  ever  since  the  time  of  the  Moors ; 
guarding,  it  is  supposed,  the  treasures  of  a  Moorish  king. 
Sometimes  it  issues  forth  in  the  dead  of  the  night,  and  scourg 
the  avenues  of  the  Alhambra  and  the  streets  of  Granada  in 
the  shape  of  a  headless  horse,  pursued  by  six  dogs,  with 
terrific  yells  and  howlings. 

' '  But  have  you  ever  met  with  it  yourself,  Mateo,  in  any  of 
your  rambles?" 

"No,  sefior;  but  my  grandfather,  the  tailor,  knew  several 
persons  who  had  seen  it ;  for  it  went  about  much  more  in  his 
time  than  at  present :  sometimes  in  one  shape,  sometimes  in 
another.  Every  body  in  Granada  has  heard  of  the  Belludo, 
for  the  old  women  and  nurses  frighten  the  children  with  it 
trhen  they  cry.  Some  say  it  is  the  spirit  of  a  cruel  Moorish 


58  THE  ALHAMBRA. 

king,  who  killed  his  six  sons,  and  buried  them  in  these  vaults, 
and  that  they  hunt  him  at  nights  in  revenge." 

Mateo  went  on  to  tell  many  particulars  about  this  redoubt 
able  hobgoblin,  which  has,  in  fact,  been  time  »ut  of  mind  a 
favourite  theme  of  nursery  tale  and  popular  tradition  in  Gra 
nada,  and  is  mentioned  in  some  of  the  antiquated  guide-books. 
When  he  had  finished,  we  passed  on,  skirting  the  fruitful 
orchards  of  the  Generaliffe ;  among  the  trees  of  which  two  oi 
three  nightingales  were  pouring  forth  a  rich  strain  of  melody. 
Behind  these  orchards  we  passed  a  number  of  Moorish  tanks, 
with  a  door  cut  into  the  rocky  bosom  of  the  hill,  but  closed  up. 
These  tanks  Mateo  informed  me  were  favourite  bathing-places 
of  himself  and  his  comrades  in  boyhood,  until  frightened  away 
by  a  story  of  a  hideous  Moor,  who  used  to  issue  forth  from  the 
door  in  the  rock  to  entrap  unwary  bathers. 

Leaving  these  haunted  tanks  behind  us,  we  pursued  our 
ramble  up  a  solitary  mule-path  that  wound  among  the  bills, 
and  soon  found  ourselves  amidst  wild  and  melancholy  moun 
tains,  destitute  of  trees,  and  here  and  there  tinted  with  scanty 
verdure.  Every  thing  within  sight  was  severe  and  sterile,  and 
it  was  scarcely  possible  to  realize  the  idea  that  but  a  short  dis 
tance  behind  us  was  the  Generaliffe,  with  its  blooming  or 
chards  and  terraced  gardens,  and  that  we  were  in  the  vicinity 
of  delicious  Granada,  that  city  of  groves  and  fountains.  But 
such  is  the  nature  of  Spain — wild  and  stern  the  moment  it 
escapes  from  cultivation,  the  desert  and  the  garden  are  ever 
side  by  side. 

The  narrow  defile  up  which  we  were  passing  is  called, 
according  to  Mateo,  el  Barranco  de  la  Tinaja,  or  the  ravine  of 
the  jar. 

"And  why  so,  Mateo?"  inquired  I. 

"Because,  sefior,  a  jar  full  of  Moorish  gold  was  found  her* 
in  old  times."  The  brain  of  poor  Mateo  is  continually  run 
ning  upon  these  golden  legends. 

"But  what  is  the  meaning  of  the  cross  I  see  yonder  upon 
a  heap  of  stones  in  that  narrow  part  of  the  ravine?" 

"Oh I  that's  nothing — a  muleteer  was  murdered  there  some 
years  since." 

"So  then,  Mateo,  you  have  robbers  and  murderers  even  at 
the  gates  of  the  Alhambra." 

"Not  at  present,  sefior— that  was,  formerly,  when  there 
used  to  be  many  loose  fellows  about  the  fortress;  but  they've 
all  been  weeded  out.  Not  but  that  the  gipsies,  who  live  in 


A  RAMBLE  AMONG   THE  HILLS.  89 

caves  in  the  hill-sides  just  out  of  the  fortress,  are,  many  of 
them,  fit  for  any  thing;  but  we  haw  had  no  murder  about 
here  for  a  long  time  past.  The  man  who  murdered  the  mule 
teer  was  hanged  in  the  fortress." 

Our  path  continued  up  the  barranco,  with  a  bold,  rugged 
height  to  our  left,  called  the  Silla  del  Moro,  or  chair  of  the 
Moor;  from  a  tradition  that  the  unfortunate  Boabdil  fled 
thither  during  a  popular  insurrection,  and  remained  all  day 
seated  on  the  rocky  summit,  looking  mournfully  down  upon 
his  factious  city. 

We  at  length  arrived  on  the  highest  part  of  the  promon 
tory  above  Granada,  called  the  Mountain  of  the  Sun.  The 
evening  was  approaching;  the  setting  sun  just  gilded  the  lof 
tiest  heights.  Here  and  there  a  solitary  shepherd  might  be 
descried  driving  his  flock  down  the  declivities  to  be  folded  for 
the  night,  or  a  muleteer  and  his  lagging  animals  threading 
some  mountain  path,  to  arrive  at  the  city  gates  before  night 
fall. 

Presently  the  deep  tones  of  the  cathedral  bell  came  swell 
ing  up  the  defiles,  proclaiming  the  hour  of  Oracion,  or  prayer. 
The  note  was  responded  to  from  the  belfry  of  every  church; 
and  from  the  sweet  bells  of  the  convents  among  the  moun 
tains.  The  shepherd  paused  on  the  fold  of  the  hill,  the  mule 
teer  in  the  midst  of  the  road;  each  took  off  his  hat,  and 
remained  motionless  for  a  time,  murmuring  his  evening 
prayer.  There  is  always  something  solemn  and  pleasing  in 
this  custom ;  by  which,  at  a  melodious  signal,  every  human 
being  throughout  the  land,  recites,  at  the  same  moment,  a 
tribute  of  thanks  to  God  for  the  mercies  of  the  day.  It 
diffuses  a  transient  sanctity  over  the  land,  and  the  sight  of  the 
sun  sinking  in  all  his  glory,  adds  not  a  little  to  the  solemnity 
of  the  scene.  In  the  present  instance,  the  effect  was  height 
ened  by  the  wild  and  lonely  nature  of  the  place.  We  were  on 
the  naked  and  broken  summit  of  the  haunted  Mountain  of  the 
Sun,  where  ruined  tanks  and  cisterns,  and  the  mouldering 
foundations  of  extensive  buildings,  spoke  of  former  populous- 
ness,  but  where  all  was  now  silent  and  desolate. 

As  we  were  wandering  among  these  traces  of  old  times, 
Mateo  pointed  out  to  me  a  circular  pit,  that  seemed  to  pene 
trate  deep  into  the  bosom  of  the  mountain.  It  was  evidently 
a  deep  well,  dug  by  the  indefatigable  Moors,  to  obtain  their 
favourite  element  in  its  greatest  purity.  Mateo,  however,  had 
a  different  story,  and  much  more  to  his  humour.  This  was, 


60  THE  ALHAMBRA. 

according  to  tradition,  an  entrance  to  the  subterranean  cav 
erns  of  the  mountain,  in  which  Boabdil  and  his  court  lay 
bound  in  magic  spell ;  and  from  whence  they  sallied  forth  at 
night,  at  allotted  times,  to  revisit  their  ancient  abodes. 

The  deepening  twilight,  which  in  this  climate  is  of  such 
short  duration,  admonished  us  to  leave  this  haunted  ground. 
As  we  descended  the  mountain  defiles,  there  was  no  longer 
herdsman  or  muleteer  to  be  seen,  nor  any  thing  to  be  hear  J 
but  our  own  footsteps  and  the  lonely  chirping  of  the  cricket. 
The  shadows  of  the  valleys  grew  deeper  and  deeper,  until  all 
was  dark  around  us.  The  lofty  summit  of  the  Sierra  Nevada 
alone  retained  a  lingering  gleam  of  day-light,  its  snowy  peaka 
glaring  against  the  dark  blue  firmament;  and  seeming  close 
to  us,  from  the  extreme  purity  of  the  atmosphere. 

"How  near  the  Sierra  looks  this  evening !"  said  Mateo,  "it 
seems  as  if  you  could  touch  it  with  your  hand,  and  yet  il; 
is  many  long  leagues  off."  While  he  was  speaking  a  star  ap 
peared  over  the  snowy  summit  of  the  mountain,  the  only  on* 
yet  visible  in  the  heavens,  and  so  pure,  so  large,  so  bright 
and  beautiful  as  to  call  forth  ejaculations  of  delight  from 
honest  Mateo. 

"  Que  lucero  hermoso! — que  claro  y  limpio  es! — no  pueda  ser 
lucero  mas  brillante !" — 

(What  a  beautiful  star !  how  clear  and  lucid !— no  star  could 
be  more  brilliant !) 

I  have  often  remarked  this  sensibility  of  the  common  people 
of  Spain  to  the  charms  of  natural  objects.  The  lustre  of  a  star 
— the  beauty  or  fragrance  of  a  flower— the  crystal  purity  of  a 
fountain,  will  inspire  them  with  a  kind  of  poetical  delight — 
and  then  what  euphonious  words  their  magnificent  language 
affords,  with  which  to  give  utterance  to  their  transports ! 

"But  what  lights  are  those,  Mateo,  which  I  see  twinkling 
along  the  Sierra  Nevada,  just  below  the  snowy  region,  and 
which  might  be  taken  for  stars,  only  that  they  are  ruddy  and 
against  the  dark  side  of  the  mountain?" 

"Those,  Senor,  are  fires  made  by  the  men  who  gather  snow 
and  ice  for  the  supply  of  Granada.  They  go  up  every  after 
noon  with  mules  and  asses,  and  take  turns,  some  to  rest  and 
warm  themselves  by  the  fires,  while  others  fill  their  panniers 
with  ice.  They  then  set  off  down  the  mountain,  so  as  to  reach 
the  gates  of  Granada  before  sunrise.  That  Sierra  Nevada. 
Sefior,  is  a  lump  of  ice  in  the  middle  of  Andalusia,  to  keep  it 
all  cool  in  summer." 


A  RAMBLE  AMONG   THE  HILLS.  61 

It  was  now  completely  dark ;  we  were  passing  through  the 
barranco  where  stood  the  cross  of  the  murdered  muleteer, 
when  I  beheld  a  number  of  lights  moving  at  a  distance  and  ap- 
parently  advancing  up  the  ravine.  On  nearer  approach  they 
proved  to  be  torches  borne  by  a  train  of  uncouth  figures  ar 
rayed  in  black ;  it  would  have  been  a  procession  dreary  enough 
at  any  time,  but  was  peculiarly  so  in  this  wild  and  solitary 
place. 

Mateo  drew  near,  and  told  me  in  a  low  voice  that  it  was  a 
funeral  train  bearing  a  corpse  to  the  burying  ground  among 
the  hills. 

As  the  procession  passed  by,  the  lugubrious  light  of  the 
torches,  falling  on  the  rugged  features  and  funereal  weeds  of 
the  attendants,  had  the  most  fantastic  effect,  but  was  perfectly 
ghastly  as  it  revealed  the  countenance  of  the  corpse,  which, 
according  to  Spanish  custom,  was  borne  uncovered  on  an  open 
bier.  I  remained  for  some  time  gazing  after  the  dreary  train 
as  it  wound  up  the  dark  defile  of  the  mountain.  It  put  me 
in  mind  of  the  old  story  of  a  procession  of  demons,  bearing  the 
body  of  a  sinner  up  the  crater  of  Stromboli. 

"Ah,  Senor,"  cried  Mateo,  "I  could  tell  you  a  story  of  a  pro 
cession  once  seen  among  these  mountains — but  then  you  would 
laugh  at  me,  and  say  it  was  one  of  the  legacies  of  my  grand 
father  the  tailor." 

"  By  no  means,  Mateo.  There  is  nothing  I  relish  more  than 
ft  marvellous  tale." 

"Well,  Senor,  it  is  about  one  of  those  very  men  we  have 
been  talking  of,  who  gather  snow  on  the  Sierra  Nevada.  You 
must  know  that  a  great  many  years  since,  in  my  grandfather's 
time,  there  was  an  old  fellow,  Tio  Nicolo  by  name,  who  had 
filled  the  panniers  of  his  mules  with  snow  and  ice,  and  was 
returning  down  the  mountain.  Being  very  drowsy,  he 
mounted  upon  the  mule,  and,  soon  falling  asleep,  went  with 
his  head  nodding  and  bobbing  about  from  side  to  side,  white 
his  sure-footed  old  mule  stepped  along  the  edge  of  precipices, 
and  down  steep  and  broken  barrancos  just  as  safe  and  steady 
as  if  it  had  been  on  plain  ground.  At  length  Tio  Nicolo  awoke, 
and  gazed  about  him,  and  rubbed  his  eyes — and  in  good  truth 
he  had  reason — the  moon  shone  almost  as  bright  as  day,  and 
he  saw  the  city  below  him,  as  plain  as  your  hand,  and  shining 
with  its  white  buildings  like  a  silver  platter  in  the  moonshine ; 
but  lord !  Senor ! — it  was  nothing  like  the  city  he  left  a  few 
hours  before.  Instead  of  the  cathedral  with  its  great  dome 


62  THE  ALHAMBRA. 

and  turrets,  and  the  churches  with  their  spires,  and  the  con 
vents  with  their  pinnacles  all  surmounted  with  the  blessed 
cross,  he  saw  nothing  but  Moorish  mosques,  and  minarets, 
and  cupolas,  all  topped  off  with  glittering  crescents,  such  as 
you  see  on  the  Barbary  flags.  Well,  Sefior,  as  you  may  sup 
pose,  Tio  Nicolo  was  mightily  puzzled  at  all  this,  but  while  he 
was  gazing  down  upon  the  city,  a  great  army  came  marching 
up  the  mountain ;  winding  along  the  ravines,  sometimes  in  the 
moonshine,  sometimes  in  the  shade.  As  it  drew  nigh,  he  saw 
that  there  were  horse  and  foot,  all  in  Moorish  armour.  Tio 
Nicolo  tried  to  scramble  out  of  their  way,  but  his  old  mule 
stood  stock  still  and  refused  to  budge,  trembling  at  the  same 
time  like  a  leaf— for  dumb  beasts,  Senor,  are  just  as  much 
frightened  at  such  things  as  human  beings.  Well,  Sefior,  the 
hobgoblin  army  came  marching  by;  there  were  men  that 
seemed  to  blow  trumpets,  and  others  to  beat  drums  and  strike 
cymbals,  yet  never  a  sound  did  they  make ;  they  all  moved  on 
without  the  least  noise,  just  as  I  have  seen  painted  armies 
move  across  the  stage  in  the  theatre  of  Granada,  and  all 
looked  as  pale  as  death.  At  last  in  the  rear  of  the  army, 
between  two  black  Moorish  horsemen,  rode  the  grand  inquisi 
tor  of  Granada,  on  a  mule  as  white  as  snow.  Tio  Nicolo  won 
dered  to  see  him  in  such  company;  for  the  inquisitor  was 
famous  for  his  hatred  of  Moors,  and  indeed  of  all  kinds  of 
infidels,  Jews  and  heretics,  and  used  to  hunt  them  out  with 
fire  and  scourge — however,  Tio  Nicolo  felt  himself  safe,  now 
that  there  was  a  priest  of  such  sanctity  at  hand.  So,  making 
the  sign  of  the  cross,  he  called  out  for  his  benediction,  when — 
hombre !  he  received  a  blow  that  sent  him  and  his  old  mule 
over  the  edge  of  a  steep  bank,  down  which  they  rolled,  head 
over  heels,  to  the  bottom.  Tio  Nicolo  did  not  come  to  his 
senses  until  long  after  sunrise,  when  he  found  himself  at  the 
bottom  of  a  deep  ravine,  his  mule  grazing  beside  him,  and  his 
panniers  of  snow  completely  melted.  He  crawled  back  to 
Granada  sorely  bruised  and  battered,  and  was  glad  to  find  the 
city  looking  as  usual,  with  Christian  churches  and  crosses. 
When  he  told  the  story  of  his  night's  adventure,  every  one 
laughed  at  him:  some  said  he  had  dreamt  it  all,  as  he  dozed 
;>n  his  mule,  others  thought  it  all  a  fabrication  of  his  own. 
But  what  was  strange,  Senor,  and  made  people  afterwards 
think  more  seriously  of  the  matter,  was,  that  the  grand  in 
quisitor  died  within  the  year.  I  have  often  heard  my  grand 
father,  the  tailor,  say  that  there  was  more  meant  by  that 


THE  COURT  OF  LIONS.  63 

hobgoblin  army  bearing  off  the  resemblance  of  the  priest,  than 
folks  dared  to  surmise. " 

"Then  you  would  insinuate,  friend  Mateo,  that  there  is  a 
kind  of  Moorish  limbo,  or  purgatory,  in  the  bowels  of  these 
mountains;  to  which  the  padre  inquisitor  was  borne  off." 

"  God  forbid— Senor— I  know  nothing  of  the  matter— I  only 
relate  what  I  heard  from  my  grandfather." 

By  the  time  Mateo  had  finished  the  tale  which  I  have  more 
succinctly  related,  and  which  was  interlarded  with  many 
comments,  and  spun  out  with  minute  details,  we  reached  the 
gate  of  the  Alhambra. 


THE  COUKt  OF  LIONS. 

THE  peculiar  charm  of  this  old  dreamy  palace,  is  its  power 
of  calling  up  vague  reveries  and  picturings  of  the  past,  and 
thus  clothing  naked  realities  with  the  illusions  of  the  memory 
and  the  imagination.  As  I  delight  to  walk  in  these  "vain 
shadows,"  I  am  prone  to  seek  those  parts  of  the  Alhambra 
which  are  most  favourable  to  this  phantasmagoria  of  the 
mind ;  and  none  are  more  so  than  the  Court  of  Lions  and  its 
surrounding  halls.  Here  the  hand  of  time  has  fallen  the 
lightest,  and  the  traces  of  Moorish  elegance  and  splendour 
exist  in  almost  their  original  brilliancy.  Earthquakes  have 
shaken  the  foundations  of  this  pile,  and  rent  its  rudest  towers, 
yet  see — not  one  of  those  slender  columns  has  been  displaced, 
not  an  arch  of  that  light  and  fragile  colonnade  has  given  way, 
and  all  the  fairy  fretwork  of  these  domes,  apparently  as  un 
substantial  as  the  crystal  fabrics  of  a  morning's  frost,  yet  exist 
after  the  lapse  of  centuries,  almost  as  fresh  as  if  from  the  hand 
of  the  Moslem  artist. 

I  write  in  the  midst  of  these  mementos  of  the  past,  in  the 
fresh  hour  of  early  morning,  in  the  fated  hall  of  the  Abencer- 
rages.  The  blood-stained  fountain,  the  legendary  monument 
of  their  massacre,  is  before  me ;  the  lofty  jet  almost  casts  its 
dew  upon  my  paper.  How  difficult  to  reconcile  the  ancient 
tale  of  violence  and  blood,  with  the  gentle  and  peaceful  scene 
around.  Every  thing  here  appears  calculated  to  inspire  kind 
and  happy  feelings,  for  every  thing  is  delicate  and  beautiful. 
The  very  light  falls  tenderlv  from  above,  through  the  lautero 


64  THE  ALHAMBRA. 

of  a  dome  tinted  and  wrought  as  if  by  fairy  hands.  Through 
the  ample  and  fretted  arch  of  the  portal,  I  behold  the  Court  of 
Lions,  with  brilliant  sunshine  gleaming  along  its  colonnades 
and  sparkling  in  its  fountains.  The  lively  swallow  dives  into 
the  court,  and  then  surging  upwards,  darts  away  twittering 
over  the  roof ;  the  busy  bee  toils  humming  among  the  flower 
beds,  and  painted  butterflies  hover  from  plant  to  plant,  and 
flutter  up,  and  sport  with  each  other  in  the  sunny  air. — 1» 
needs  but  a  slight  exertion  of  the  fancy  to  picture  some  pen 
sive  beauty  of  the  harem,  loitering  in  these  secluded  haunts  of 
oriental  luxury. 

He,  however,  who  would  behold  this  scene  under  an  aspect 
more  in  unison  with  its  fortunes,  let  him  come  when  the 
shadows  of  evening  temper  the  brightness  of  the  court,  and 
throw  a  gloom  into  the  surrounding  halls, — then  nothing  can 
be  more  serenely  melancholy,  or  more  in  harmony  with  the 
tale  of  departed  grandeur. 

At  such  times  I  am  apt  to  seek  the  Hall  of  Justice,  whose 
deep  shadowy  arcades  extend  across  the  upper  end  of  the 
court.  Here  were  performed,  in  presence  of  Ferdinand  and 
Isabella,  and  their  triumphant  court,  the  pompous  ceremonies 
of  high  mass,  on  taking  possession  of  the  Alhambra.  The  very 
cross  is  still  to  be  seen  upon  the  wall,  where  the  altar  was 
erected,  and  where  officiated  the  grand  cardinal  of  Spain,  and 
others  of  the  highest  religious  dignitaries  of  the  land. 

I  picture  to  myself  the  scene  when  this  place  was  filled  with 
the  conquering  host,  that  mixture  of  mitred  prelate,  and  shorn 
monk,  and  steel-clad  knight,  and  silken  courtier :  when  crosses' 
and  croziers  and  religious  standards  were  mingled  with  proud 
armorial  ensigns  and  the  banners  of  the  haughty  chiefs  of 
Spain,  and  flaunted  in  triumph  through  these  Moslem  halls. 
1  picture  to  myself  Columbus,  the  future  discoverer  of  a  world, 
taking  his  modest  stand  in  a  remote  corner,  the  humble  and 
neglected  spectator  of  the  pageant.  I  see  in  imagination  the 
Catholic  sovereigns  prostrating  themselves  before  the  altar 
and  pouring  forth  thanks  for  their  victory,  while  the  vaults 
resound  with  sacred  minstrelsy  and  the  deep-toned  Te  Deum. 

The  transient  illusion  is  over — the  pageant  melts  from  the 
fancy — monarch,  priest,  and  warrior  return  into  oblivion,  with 
the  poor  Moslems  over  whom  they  exulted.  The  hall  of  their 
triumph  is  waste  and  desolate.  The  bat  flits  about  its  twilight 
vaults,  and  the  owl  hoots  from  the  neighbouring  tower  oi 
Comares.  The  Court  of_tfce  Lions  has  also  its  share  of  supec> 


SEE  COURT  OF  LIONS.  65 

natural  legends.  I  have  already  mentioned  the  belief  in  the 
murmuring  of  voices  and  clanking  of  chains,  made  at  night 
by  the  spirits  of  the  murdered  Abencerrages.  Mateo  Ximenes, 
a  few  evening  since,  at  one  of  the  gatherings  in  Dame  An- 
tonia's  apartment,  related  a  fact  which  happened  within  the 
knowledge  of  his  grandfather,  the  legendary  tailor.  There 
was  an  invalid  soldier,  who  had  charge  of  the  Alhambra,  to 
show  it  to  strangers.  As  he  was  one  evening  about  twilight 
passing  through  the  Court  of  Lions,  he  heard  footsteps  in  the 
Hall  of  the  Abencerrages.  Supposing  some  loungers  to  be 
lingering  there,  he  advanced  to  attend  upon  them,  when,  to  his 
astonishment,  he  beheld  four  Moors  richly  dressed,  with  gilded 
cuirasses  and  scimitars,  and  poniards  glittering  with  precious 
stones.  They  were  walking  to  and  fro  with  solemn  pace,  but 
paused  and  beckoned  to  him.  The  old  soldier,  however,  took 
to  flight;  and  could  never  afterwards  be  prevailed  upon  to 
enter  the  Alhambra.  Thus  it  is  that  men  sometimes  turn 
their  backs  upon  fortune ;  for  it  is  the  firm  opinion  of  Mateo 
that  the  Moors  intended  to  reveal  the  place  where  their  treas 
ures  lay  buried.  A  successor  to  the  invalid  soldier  was  more 
knowing ;  he  came  to  the  Alhambra  poor,  but  at  the  end  of  a 
year  went  off  to  Malaga,  bought  horses,  set  up  a  carriage,  and 
still  lives  there,  one  of  the  richest  as  well  as  oldest  men  of  the 
place :  all  which,  Mateo  sagely  surmises,  was  in  consequence  of 
his  finding  out  the  golden  secret  of  these  phantom  Moors. 

On  entering  the  Court  of  the  Lions,  a  few  evenings  since,  1 
was  startled  at  beholding  a  turbaned  Moor  quietly  seated  near 
the  fountain.  It  seemed,  for  a  moment,  as  if  one  of  the  stories 
of  Mateo  Ximenes  were  realized,  and  some  ancient  inhabitant 
«f  the  Alhambra  had  broken  the  spell  of  centuries,  and  become 
visible.  It  proved,  however,  to  be  a  mere  ordinary  mortal ;  a 
native  of  Tetuan  in  Barbary,  who  had  a  shop  in  the  Zacatin  of 
Granada,  where  he  sold  rhubarb,  trinkets,  and  perfumes.  As 
he  spoke  Spanish  fluently,  I  was  enabled  to  hold  conversation 
with  him,  and  found  him  shrewd  and  intelligent.  He  told  me 
that  he  came  up  the  hill  occasionally  in  the  summer,  to  pass  a 
part  of  the  <iay  in  the  Alhambra,  which  reminded  him  of  the 
old  palaces  in  Barbary,  which  were  built  and  adorned  in  simi 
lar  style,  though  with  less  magnificence. 

As  we  walked  about  the  palace  he  pointed  out  several  of  the 
Arabic  inscriptions,  as  possessing  much  poetic  beauty. 

"  Ah!  Seiior,"  said  he,  "  when  the  Moors  held  Granada,  they 
wrere  a  gayer  people  than  they  are  now-a-days.  They  thought 


66  THE  AlHAMBRA. 

only  of  love,  of  music,  and  of  poetry.  They  made  stanaaa 
upon  every  occasion,  and  set  them  all  tc  music.  He  who  could 
make  the  best  verses,  and  shp  who  had  the  most  tuneful  voice, 
might  be  sure  of  favour  and  preferment.  In  those  days,  if 
any  one  asked  for  bread  the  reply  was,  'Make  me  a  couplet;' 
and  the  poorest  beggar,  if  he  begged  in  rhyme,  would  often  b* 
rewarded  with  a  piece  of  gold." 

"And  is  the  popular  feeling  for  poetry,"  said  I,  "entirely 
lost  among  you?" 

"By  no  means,  Seller:  the  people  of  Barbary,  even  those  of 
the  lower  classes,  still  make  couplets,  and  good  ones  too,  as  in 
the  old  time,  but  talent  is  not  rewarded  as  it  was  then :  the 
rich  prefer  the  jingle  of  their  gold  to  the  sound  of  poetry  or 
music." 

As  he  was  talking,  his  eye  caught  one  of  the  inscriptions 
that  foretold  perpetuity  to  the  power  and  glory  of  the  Moslem 
monarchs,  the  masters  of  the  pile.  He  shook  his  head  and 
shrugged  feis  shoulders  as  he  interpreted  it.  "Such  might 
have  been  the  case,"  said  he;  "the  Moslems  might  still  have 
been  reigning  in  the  Alhambra,  had  not  Boabdil  been  a  trai 
tor,  and  given  up  his  capitol  to  the  Christians.  The  Spanish 
monarchs  would  never  have  been  able  to  conquer  it  by  open 
force." 

I  endeavoured  to  vindicate  the  memory  of  the  unlucky  Bo 
abdil  from  this  aspersion,  and  to  show  that  the  dissensions 
which  led  to  the  downfall  of  the  Moorish  throne,  originated  in 
the  cruelty  of  his  tiger-hearted  father;  but  the  Moor  would 
admit  of  no  palliation. 

"Abul  Hassan,"  said  he,  "might  have  been  cruel,  but  he 
was  brave,  vigilant,  and  patriotic.  Had  he  been  properly 
seconded,  Granada  would  still  have  been  ours;  but  his  son 
Boabdil  thwarted  his  plans,  crippled  his  power,  sowed  treason 
in  his  palace,  and  dissension  in  his  camp.  May  the  curse  of 
God  light  upon  him  for  his  treachery."  With  these  words  the 
Moor  left  the  Alhambra. 

The  indignation  of  my  turbaned  companion  agrees  with  an 
anecdote  related  by  a  friend,  who,  in  the  course  of  a  tour  in 
Barbary,  had  an  interview  with  the  pasha  of  Tetuan.  The 
Moorish  governor  was  particular  in  his  inquiries  about  the  soil, 
the  climate  and  resources  of  Spain,  and  especially  concerning 
the  favoured  regions  of  Andalusia,  the  delights  of  Granada 
and  the  remains  of  its  royal  palace.  The  replies  awakened  all 
those  fond  recollections,  so  deeply  cherished  by  the  Moors,  o 


BOABDIL  EL  CHICO.  Q't 

the  power  and  splendour  of  their  ancient  empire  in  Spain* 
Turning  to  his  Moslem  attendants,  the  pasha  stroked  his 
beard,  and  broke  forth  in  passionate  lamentations  that  such  a 
sceptre  should  have  fallen  from  the  sway  of  true  believers. 
He  consoled  himself,  however,  with  the  persuasion,  tliat  the 
power  and  prosperity  of  the  Spanish  nation  were  on  the  de 
cline  •,  that  a  time  would  come  when  the  Moors  would  recon* 
quer  their  rightful  domains ;  and  that  the  day  was,  perhaps, 
not  far  distant,  when  Mohammedan  worship  would  again  be 
offered  up  in  the  mosque  of  Cordova,  and  a  Mohammedan 
prince  sit  on  his  throne  in  the  Alhambra. 

Such  is  the  general  aspiration  and  belief  among  the  Moors  of 
Barbary ;  who  consider  Spain,  and  especially  Andalusia,  their 
rightful  heritage,  of  which  they  have  been  despoiled  by 
treachery  and  violence.  These  ideas  are  fostered  and  per 
petuated  by  the  descendants  of  the  exiled  Moors  of  Granada, 
scattered  among  the  cities  of  Barbary.  Several  of  these  reside 
in  Tetuan,  preserving  their  ancient  names,  such  as  Paez,  and 
Medina,  and  refraining  from  intermarriage  with  any  families 
who  cannot  claim  the  same  high  origin.  Their  vaunted  lineage 
is  regarded  with  a  degree  of  popular  deference  rarely  shown  in 
Mohammedan  communities  to  any  hereditary  distinction  ex 
cept  in  the  royal  line. 

These  families,  it  is  said,  continue  to  sigh  after  the  terres 
trial  paradise  of  their  ancestors,  and  to  put  up  prayers  in  their 
mosques  on  Fridays,  imploring  Allah  to  hasten  the  time  when 
Granada  shall  be  restored  to  the  faithful ;  an  event  to  which 
they  look  forward  as  fondly  and  confidently  as  did  the  Chris 
tian  crusaders  to  the  recovery  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre.  Nay,  it 
is  added,  that  some  of  them  retain  the  ancient  maps  and  deeds 
of  the  estates  and  gardens  of  then-  ancestors  at  Granada,  and 
even  the  keys  of  the  houses;  holding  them  as  evidences  of 
their  hereditary  claims,  to  be  produced  at  the  anticipated  day 
of  restoration. 


BOABDIL  EL  CHICO. 

HT  conversation  with  the  Moor  in  the  CotiMi  of  Lions  set  me 
to  musing  on  the  singular  fate  ct  Boabdil.  Never  was  sur 
name  more  applicable  than  that  bestowed  upon  him  by  his 
Bublects.  of  ' £  El  Zoaoybi."  on* ' '  tb/-  unlucky. "  His  misfortunes 


68  THE  ALUAMBRA. 

began  almost  in  his  cradle.  In  his  tender  youth  he  was  impris 
oned  and  menaced  with  death  by  an  inhuman  father,  and  only 
escaped  through  a  mother's  stratagem ;  in  after  years  his  life 
was  imbittered  and  repeatedly  endangered  by  the  hostilities  of 
a  usurping  uncle;  his  reign  was  distracted  by  external  inva 
sions  and  internal  feuds ;  he  was  alternately  the  foe,  the  pris 
oner,  the  friend,  and  always  the  dupe  of  Ferdinand,  until 
conquered  and  dethroned  by  the  mingled  craft  and  force  of 
that  perfidious  monarch.  An  exile  from  his  native  land,  he 
took  refuge  with  one  of  the  princes  of  Africa,  and  fell  ob- 
ecurely  in  battle  fighting  in  the  cause  of  a  stranger.  His  mis 
fortunes  ceased  not  with  his  death.  If  Boabdil  cherished  a 
desire  to  leave  an  honourable  name  on  the  historic  page,  how 
cruelly  has  he  been  defrauded  of  his  hopes !  Who  is  there  that 
has  turned  the  least  attention  to  the  romantic  history  of  the 
Moorish  domination  in  Spain,  without  kindling  with  indigna 
tion  at  the  alleged  atrocities  of  Boabdil?  Who  has  not  been 
touched  with  the  woes  of  his  lovely  and  gentle  queen,  subjected 
by  him  to  a  trial  of  life  and  death,  on  a  false  charge  of  infidel 
ity?  Who  has  not  been  shocked  by  the  alleged  murder  of  his 
sister  and  her  two  children,  in  a  transport  of  passion?  Who 
has  not  felt  his  blood  boil  at  the  inhuman  massacre  of  the  gal 
lant  Abencerrages,  thirty-six  of  whom,  it  is  affirmed,  he  caused 
to  be  beheaded  in  the  Court  of  the  Lions?  All  these  Charges 
have  been  reiterated  in  various  forms ;  they  have  passed  into 
ballads,  dramas,  and  romances,  until  they  have  taken  too 
thorough  possession  of  the  public  mind  to  be  eradicated. 

There  is  not  a  foreigner  of  education  that  visits  the  Alhanv 
bra,  but  asks  for  the  fountain  where  the  Abencerrages  were 
beheaded ;  and  gazes  with  horror  at  the  grated  gallery  where 
the  queen  is  said  to  have  been  confined ;  not  a  peasant  of  the 
Vega  or  the  Sierra,  but  sings  the  story  in  rude  couplets  to  the 
accompaniment  of  his  guitar,  while  his  hearers  learn  to  exe 
crate  the  very  name  of  Boabdil. 

Never,  however,  was  name  more  foully  and  unjustly  slan 
dered.  I  have  examined  all  the  authentic  chronicles  and 
letters  written  by  Spanish  authors  contemporary  with  Boab 
dil  ;  some  of  whom  were  in  the  confidence  of  the  Catholic  sove 
reigns,  and  actually  present  in  the  camp  throughout  the  war ; 
I  have  examined  all  the  Arabian  authorities  I  could  get  access 
to  through  the  medium  of  translation,  and  can  find  nothing  to 
Justify  these  dark  and  hateful  accusations. 

The  whole  of  these  tales  may  be  traced  to  a  work  commonly 


BOABDIL  EL  CHICO.  QQ 

ealled  "The  Civil  Wars  of  Granada,"  containing  a  pretended 
history  of  the  feuds  of  the  Zegries  and  Abencerrages  during 
the  last  struggle  of  the  Moorish  empire.  This  work  appeared 
originally  in  Spanish,  and  professed  to  be  translated  from  the 
Arabic  by  one  Gines  Perez  de  Hita,  an  inhabitant  of  Murcia. 
It  has  since  passed  into  various  languages,  and  Florian  has 
taken  from  it  much  of  the  fable  of  his  Gonsalvo  of  Cordova. 
It  has,  in  a  great  measure,  usurped  the  authority  of  real  his 
tory,  and  is  currently  believed  by  the  people,  and  especially 
the  peasantry  of  Granada.  The  whole  of  it,  however,  is  a  mass 
of  fiction,  mingled  with  a  few  disfigured  truths,  which  give  it 
an  air  of  veracity.  It  bears  internal  evidence  of  its  falsity,  the 
manners  and  customs  of  the  Moors  being  extravagantly  mis 
represented  in  it,  and  scenes  depicted  totally  incompatible 
with  their  habits  and  their  faith,  and  which  never  could  have 
been  recorded  by  a  Mahometan  writer. 

I  confess  there  seems  to  me  something  almost  criminal  in  the 
wilful  perversions  of  this  work.  Great  latitude  is  undoubtedly 
to  be  allowed  to  romantic  fiction,  but  there  are  limits  which  it 
must  not  pass,  and  the  names  of  the  distinguished  dead,  which 
belong  to  history,  are  no  more  to  be  calumniated  than  those  of 
the  illustrious  living.  One  would  have  thought,  too,  that  the 
unfortunate  Boabdil  had  suffered  enough  for  his  justifiable 
hostility  to  Spaniards,  by  being  stripped  of  his  kingdom,  with 
out  having  his  name  thus  wantonly  traduced  and  rendered  a 
bye- word  and  a  theme  of  infamy  in  his  native  land,  and  in  the 
very  mansion  of  his  fathers ! 

It  is  not  intended  hereby  to  affirm  that  the  transactions  im 
puted  to  Boabdil  are  totally  without  historic  foundation,  but 
as  far  as  they  can  be  traced,  they  appear  to  have  been  the  arts 
of  his  father,  Abul  Hassan,  who  is  represented,  by  both  Chris 
tian  and  Arabian  chroniclers,  as  being  of  a  cruel  and  ferocious 
nature.  It  was  he  who  put  to  death  the  cavaliers  of  the  illus 
trious  line  of  the  Abencerrages,  upon  suspicion  of  their  being 
engaged  in  a  conspiracy  to  dispossess  him  of  his  throne. 

The  story  of  the  accusation  of  the  queen  of  Boabdil,  and  of 
her  confinement  in  one  of  the  towers,  may  also  be  traced  to  an 
incident  in  the  life  of  his  tiger-hearted  father.  Abul  Hassan, 
in  his  advanced  age,  married  a  beautiful  Christian  captive  of 
noble  descent,  who  took  the  Moorish  appellation  of  Zorayda. 
by  whom  he  had  two  sons.  She  was  of  an  ambitious  spirit, 
and  anxious  that  her  children  should  succeed  to  the  crown. 
For  this  purpose  she  worked  upon  the  suspicious  temper  of  the 


70  TEE  ALHAMLJIA. 

king;  inflaming  him  with  jealousies  of  his  children  hy  his 
other  wives  and  concubines,  whom  she  accused  of  plotting 
against  his  throne  and  life.  Some  of  them  were  slain  by  th* 
ferocious  father.  Ayxa  la  Horra,  the  virtuous  mother  of  Bo- 
abdil,  who  had  once  been  his  cherished  favourite,  became 
likewise  the  object  of  his  suspicion.  He  confined  her  and  her 
son  in  the  tower  of  Comares,  and  would  have  sacrificed  Boab- 
dil  to  his  fury,  but  that  his  tender  mother  lowered  him  from 
the  tower,  in  the  night,  by  means  of  the  scarfs  of  herself  and 
her  attendants,  and  thus  enabled  him  to  escape  to  Guadix. 

Such  is  the  only  shadow  of  a  foundation  that  I  can  find  for 
the  story  of  the  accused  and  captive  queen;  and  in  this  it 
appeal's  that  Boabdil  was  the  persecuted  instead  of  the  per 
secutor. 

Throughout  the  whole  of  his  brief,  turbulent,  and  disastrous 
reign,  Boabdil  gives  evidences  of  a  mild  and  amiable  character. 
He  in  the  first  instance  won  the  hearts  of  the  people  by  his 
affable  and  gracious  manners;  he  was  always  peaceable,  and 
never  inflicted  any  severity  of  punishment  upon  those  who 
occasionally  rebelled  against  him.  He  was  personally  brave, 
but  he  wanted  moral  courage,  and  in  times  of  difficulty  and 
perplexity,  was  wavering  and  irresolute.  This  feebleness  of 
spirit  hastened  his  downfall,  while  it  deprived  him  of  that 
heroic  grace  which  would  have  given  a  grandeur  and  dignity 
to  his  fate,  and  rendered  him  worthy  of  closing  the  splendid 
drama  of  the  Moslem  domination  in  Spain. 


MEMENTOS   OF  BOABDIL. 

WHILE  my  mind  was  still  warm  with  the  subject  of  the  un 
fortunate  Boabdil,  I  set  forth  to  trace  the  m^tnentos  connected 
with  his  story,  which  yet  exist  in  this  scene  of  his  sovereignty 
and  his  misfortunes.  In  the  picture  gallery  of  the  Palace  of  the 
Generalise,  hangs  his  portrait.  The  face  is  mild,  handsome  and 
somewhat  melancholy,  with  a  fair  complexion  and  yellow  hair;  v- 
if  it  be  a  true  representation  of  the  man,  he  may  have  been 
wavering  and  uncertain,  but  there  is  nothing  of  cruelty  or  un- 
kindness  in  his  aspect. 

I  next  visited  the  dungeon  wherein  he  was  confined  in  his 
youthful  days,  when  his  cruel  father  meditated  his  destruction. 


MEMENTOS  OF  BOABDIL.  71 

It  is  a  vaulted  room  in  the  tower  of  Comares,  under  the  Hall  ol 
Ambassadors.  A  similar  room,  separated  by  a  narrow  passage, 
was  the  prison  of  his  mother,  the  virtuous  Ayxa  la  Horra. 
The  walls  are  of  prodigious  thickness,  and  the  small  windows 
secured  by  iron  bars.  A  narrow  stone  gallery,  with  a  low  par 
apet,  extends  round  three  sides  of  the  tower  just  below  the 
windows,  but  at  a  considerable  height  from  the  ground.  From 
this  gallery,  it  is  presumed,  the  queen  lowered  her  son  with  the 
scarfs  of  herself  and  her  female  attendants,  during  the  dark 
ness  of  night,  to  the  hillside,  at  the  foot  of  which  waited  a  do 
mestic  with  a  fleet  steed  to  bear  the  prince  to  the  mountains. 

As  I  paced  this  gallery,  my  imagination  pictured  the  anxious 
queen  leaning  over  the  parapet,  and  listening,  with  the  throb- 
bings  of  a  mother's  heart,  to  the  last  echo  of  the  horse's  hoofs, 
as  her  son  scoured  along  the  narrow  valley  of  the  Darro. 

My  next  search  was  for  the  gate  by  which  Boabdil  departed 
from  the  Alhambra,  when  about  to  surrender  his  capital. 
With  the  melancholy  caprice  of  a  broken  spirit,  he  requested 
of  the  Catholic  monarchs  that  no  one  afterwards  might  be  per 
mitted  to  pass  through  this  gate.  His  prayer,  according  to  an 
cient  chronicles,  was  complied  with,  through  the  sympathy  of 
Isabella,  and  the  gate  walled  up.  For  some  time  I  inquired  in 
vain  for  such  a  portal ;  at  length  my  humble  attendant,  Mateo, 
learned  among  the  old  residents  of  the  fortress,  that  a  ruinous 
gateway  still  existed,  by  which,  according  to  tradition,  the 
Moorish  king  had  left  the  fortress,  but  which  had  never  been 
opened  within  the  memory  of  the  oldest  inhabitant. 

He  conducted  me  to  the  spot.  The  gateway  is  in  the  centre 
of  what  was  once  an  immense  tower,  called  la  Torre  de  los 
Siete  Suelos,  or,  the  Tower  of  the  Seven  Moors.  It  is  a  place 
famous  in  the  superstitious  stories  of  the  neighbourhood,  for 
being  the  scene  of  strange  apparitions  and  Moorish  enchant 
ments. 

This  once  redoubtable  tower  is  now  a  mere  wreck,  having 
been  blown  up  with  gunpowder,  by  the  French,  when  they 
abandoned  the  fortress.  Great  masses  of  the  wall  lie  scattered 
about,  buried  in  the  luxuriant  herbage,  or  overshadowed  by 
vines  and  fig-trees.  The  arch  of  the  gateway,  though  rent  by 
the  shock,  still  remains ;  but  the  last  wish  of  poor  Boabdil  has 
been  again,  though  unintentionally,  fulfilled,  for  the  portal  has 
been  closed  up  by  loose  stones  gathered  from  the  ruins,  and  re 
mains  impassable. 

following  up  the  route  of  the  Moslem  monarch  as  it  remains 


72  THE  ALHAMBRA. 

on  record,  I  crossed  on  horseback  the  hill  of  Les  Martyrs,  keep 
ing  along  the  garden  of  the  convent  of  the  same  name,  and 
thence  down  a  rugged  ravine,  beset  by  thickets  of  aloes  and 
Indian  figs,  and  lined  by  caves  and  hovels  swarming  with  gip- 
eies.  It  was  the  road  taken  by  Boabdil  to  avoid  passing 
through  the  city.  The  descent  was  so  steep  and  broken  that  I, 
was  obliged  to  dismount  and  lead  my  horse. 

Emerging  from  the  ravine,  and  passing  by  the  Puerta  do  los 
Molinos,  (the  Gate  of  the  Mills,)  I  issued  forth  upon  the  public 
promenade,  called  the  Prado,  and  pursuing  the  course  of  the 
Xenil,  arrived  at  a  small  Moorish  mosque,  now  converted  into 
the  chapel,  or  hermitage  of  San  Sebastian.  A  tablet  on  the 
wall  relates  that  on  this  spot  Boabdil  surrendered  the  keys  of 
Granada  to  the  Castilian  sovereigns. 

From  thence  I  rode  slowly  across  the  Vega  to  a  village  where 
the  family  and  household  of  the  unhappy  king  had  awaited 
him;  for  he  had  sent  them  forward  on  the  preceding  night  from 
the  Alhambra,  that  his  mother  and  wife  might  not  participate 
in  his  personal  humiliation,  or  be  exposed  to  the  gaze  of  the 
conquerors. 

Following  on  in  the  route  of  the  melancholy  band  of  royal 
•xiles,  I  arrived  at  the  foot  of  a  chain  of  barren  and  dreary 
heights,  forming  the  skirt  of  the  Alpuxarra  mountains.  From 
the  summit  of  one  of  these,  the  unfortunate  Boabdil  took  his 
last  look  at  Granada.  It  bears  a  name  expressive  of  his  sor 
rows—La  Cuesta  de  las  Lagrimas,  (the  Hill  of  Tears.)  Beyond 
it  a  sandy  road  winds  across  a  rugged  cheerless  waste,  doubly 
dismal  to  the  unhappy  monarch,  as  it  led  to  exile ;  behind,  in 
the  distance,  lies  the  "  enamelled  Vega,"  with  the  Xenil  shining 
among  its  bowers,  and  Granada  beyond. 

I  spurred  my  horse  to  the  summit  of  a  rock,  where  Boabdil 
uttered  his  last  sorrowful  exclamation,  as  he  turned  his  eyes 
from  taking  their  farewell  gaze.  It  is  still  denominated  el  ul 
timo  suspiro  del  Moro,  (the  last  sigh  of  the  Moor.)  Who  can 
wonder  at  his  anguish  at  being  expelled  from  such  a  kingdom 
and  such  an  abode?  With  the  Alhambra  he  seemed  to  be 
yielding  up  all  the  honours  of  his  line,  and  all  the  glories  and 
delights  of  life. 

It  was  here,  too,  that  his  affliction  was  imbittered  by  the  re 
proach  of  his  mother  Ayxa,  who  had  so  often  assisted  him  in 
times  of  peril,  and  had  vainly  sought  to  instil  into  him  her  own 
resolute  spirit.  "  You  do  well/  said  she,  "  to  weep  as  a  woman 
over  what  you  could  not  defend  as  a  man !"— A  speech  that 


THE  TOWER  OP  LAS  INFANTAS.  73 

savours  more  of  the  pride  of  the  princess,  than  the  tenderness 
of  the  mother. 

When  this  anecdote  was  related  to  Charles  V.,  by  Bishop 
Guevara,  the  emperor  joined  in  the  expression  of  scorn  at  the 
weakness  of  the  wavering  Boabdil.  "Had  I  been  he,  or  he 
been  I,"  said  the  haughty  potentate,  "I  would  rather  have 
made  this  Alhambra  my  sepulchre,  than  have  lived  without  a 
kingdom  in  the  Alpuxarra. 

How  easy  it  is  for  them  in  power  and  prosperity  to  preach 
heroism  to  the  vanquished !  How  little  can  they  understand 
that  lif e  itself  may  rise  in  value  with  the  unfortunate,  when 
nought  but  lif  e  remains. 


THE  TOWER  OF  LAS  INFANTAS. 

IN  an  evening's  stroll  up  a  narrow  glen,  overshadowed  by 
fig-trees,  pomegranates,  and  myrtles,  that  divides  the  land  of 
the  fortress  from  those  of  the  G-eneraliffe,  I  was  struck  with 
the  romantic  appearance  of  a  Moorish  tower  in  the  outer  wall 
of  the  Alhambra,  that  rose  high  above  the  tree-tops,  and 
caught  the  ruddy  rays  of  the  setting  sun.  A  solitary  window, 
at  a  great  height,  commanded  a  view  of  the  glen,  and  as  I  was 
regarding  it  a  young  female  looked  out,  with  her  head  adorned 
with  flowers.  She  was  evidently  superior  to  the  usual  class  of 
people  that  inhabit  the  old  towers  of  the  fortress;  and  this 
sudden  and  picturesque  glimpse  of  her,  reminded  me  of  the 
descriptions  of  captive  beauties  in  fairy  tales.  The  fanciful 
associations  of  my  mind  were  increased  on  being  informed  by 
my  attendant,  Mateo,  that  this  was  the  tower  of  the  princesses, 
(la  Torre  de  las  Infantas,)  so  called  from  having  been,  accord 
ing  to  tradition,  the  residence  of  the  daughters  of  the  Moorish 
kings.  I  have  since  visited  the  tower.  It  is  not  generally 
shown  to  strangers,  though  well  worthy  attention,  for  the 
interior  is  equal  for  beauty  of  architecture  and  delicacy  of 
ornament,  to  any  part  of  the  palace.  The  elegance  of  its  cen 
tral  hall  with  its  marble  fountain,  its  lofty  arches  and  richly 
fretted  dome;  the  arabesques  and  stucco  work  of  the  small, 
but  well-proportioned  chambers,  though  injured  by  time  and 
neglect,  all  accord  with  the  story  of  its  being  anciently  the 
abode  of  royal  beaut}  *- 


74  THE  ALUAMBRA. 

The  little  old  fairy  queen  who  lives  under  the  staircase  of 
the  Alhambra,  and  frequents  the  evening  tertulias  of  Darao 
Antonia,  tells  some  fanciful  traditions  about  three  Moorish 
princesses  who  were  once  shut  up  in  this  tower  by  their  father, 
a  tyrant  king  of  Granada,  and  were  only  permitted  to  ride  out 
at  night  about  the  hills,  when  no  one  was  permitted  to  come  ii; 
their  way,  under  pain  of  death.  They  still,  according  to  her 
account,  may  be  seen  occasionally  when  the  moon  is  in  the 
full,  riding  in  lonely  places  along  the  mountain  side,  on  pal 
freys  richly  caparisoned,  and  sparkling  with  jewels,  but  they 
vanish  on  being  spoken  to. 

— But  before  I  relate  any  thing  farther  respecting  these  prin' 
cesses,  the  reader  may  be  anxious  to  know  something  about 
the  fair  inhabitant  of  the  tower  with  her  head  drest  with 
flowers,  who  looked  out  from  the  lofty  window.  She  proved 
to  be  the  newly  married  spouse  of  the  worthy  adjutant  of 
invalids;  who,  though  well  stricken  in  years,  had  had  tbd 
courage  to  take  to  his  bosom  a  young  and  buxom  Andalusian 
damsel.  May  the  good  old  cavalier  be  happy  in  his  choice, 
and  find  the  tower  of  the  Princesses  a  more  secure  residence 
for  female  beauty  than  it  seems  to  have  proved  in  the  time  of 
toe  Moslems,  if  we  may  believe  the  following  legend. 


THE  HOUSE  OF  THE  WEATHEBCOCK. 

ON  the  brow  of  the  lofty  hill  of  the  Albaycin,  the  highest 
part  of  the  city  of  Granada,  stand  the  remains  of  what  was 
once  a  royal  palace,  founded  shortly  after  the  conquest  of 
Spain  by  the  Arabs.  It  is  now  converted  into  a  manufactory, 
and  has  fallen  into  such  obscurity  that  it  cost  me  much  trouble 
to  find  it,  notwithstanding  that  I  had  the  assistance  of  the 
sagacious  and  all-knowing  Mateo  Ximenes.  This  edifice  still 
bears  the  name  by  which  it  has  been  known  for  centuries, 
namely,  la  Casa  del  Gallo  de  Viento ;  that  is,  the  House  of  the 
Weathercock. 

It  was  so  called  from  a  bronze  figure  of  a  warrior  on  horse 
back,  armed  with  shield  and  spear,  erected  on  one  of  its  tur 
rets,  and  turning  with  every  wind ;  bearing  an  Arabic  motto 
tfhich,  translated  into  Spanish,  was  as  follows: 


THE  LEGEND  OF  THE  ARABIAN  ASTROLOGER.      7fl 

Dici  el  Sabio  Aben  Habuz 
Que  asi  se  defieiide  el  Anduluz. 

In  this  way,  says  Aben  Habuz  the  wise, 
The  Andulusian  his  foe  defies. 

This  Aben  Habuz  was  a  captain  who  served  in  the  invading 
army  of  Taric,  and  was  left  as  alcayde  of  Granada.  He  ia 
supposed  to  have  intended  this  warlike  effigy  as  a  perpetual 
memorial  to  the  Moorish  inhabitants,  that  surrounded  as  they 
were  by  foes,  and  subject  to  sudden  invasion,  their  safety 
depended  upon  being  always  ready  for  the  field. 

Other  traditions,  however,  give  a  different  account  of  this 
Aben  Habuz  and  his  palace,  and  affirm  that  his  bronze  horse 
man  was  originally  a  talisman  of  great  virtue,  though  in  aftei 
ages  it  lost  its  magic  properties  and  degenerated  into  a  weath 
ercock.    The  following  are  the  traditions  alluded  to. 


THE  LEGEND  OF  THE  AEABIAN  ASTEOLOGEBc 

IN  old  times,  many  hundred  years  ago,  there  was  a  Moorish 
king  named  Aben  Habuz,  who  reigned  over  the  kingdom  of 
Granada.  He  was  a  retired  conqueror,  that  is  to  say,  one 
who,  having  in  his  more  youthful  days  led  a  life  of  constant 
foray  and  depredation,  now  that  he  was  grown  old  and  super 
annuated,  "  languished  for  repose,"  and  desired  nothing  more 
than  to  live  at  peace  with  all  the  world,  to  husband  his  laurels, 
and  to  enjoy  in  quiet  the  possessions  he  had  wrested  from  his 
neighbours. 

It  so  happened,  however,  that  this  most  reasonable  and 
pacific  old  monarch  had  young  rivals  to  deal  with — princes  full 
of  his  early  passion  for  fame  and  fighting,  and  who  had  some 
scores  to  settle  which  he  had  run  up  with  their  fathers ;  he 
had  also  some  turbulent  and  discontented  districts  of  his  own 
territories  among  the  Alpuxarra  mountains,  which,  during 
the  days  of  his  vigour,  he  had  treated  with  a  high  hand ;  and 
Avhich,  now  that  he  languished  for  repose,  were  prone  to  rise 
in  rebellion  and  to  threaten  to  march  to  Granada  and  drive 
him.  from  his  throne.  To  make  the  matter  worse,  as  Granada 
is  surrounded  by  wild  and  craggy  mountains  which  hide  the 
approach  of  an  enemy,  the  unfortunate  Aben  Habuz  was  kept 
in  a  constant  state  of  vigilance  and  alarm,  not  knowing  irt 
what  quarter  hostilities  might  break  out, 


76  THE  ALHAUBRA. 

It  was  in  vain  that  he  built  watch-towers  on  the  mountains 
and  stationed  guards  at  every  pass,  with  orders  to  make  fire* 
by  night,  and  smoke  by  day,  on  the  approach  of  an  enemy 
His  alert  foes  would  baffle  every  precaution,  and  come  break 
ing  out  of  some  unthought-of  defile, — ravage  his  lands  beneath 
his  very  nose,  and  then  make  off  with  prisoners  and  booty  to 
the  mountains.  Was  ever  peaceable  and  retired  conqueror  in 
a  more  uncomfortable  predicament  1 

While  the  pacific  Aben  Habuz  was  harassed  by  these  per 
plexities  and  molestations,  an  ancient  Arabian  physician  ar 
rived  at  his  court.  His  gray  beard  descended  to  his  girdle, 
and  he  had  every  mark  of  extreme  age,  yet  he  had  travelled 
almost  the  whole  way  from  Egypt  on  foot,  with  no  other  aid 
than  a  staff  marked  with  hieroglyphics.  His  fame  had  pre 
ceded  him.  His  name  was  Ibrahim  Ebn  Abu  Ayub ;  he  was 
said  to  have  lived  ever  since  the  days  of  Mahomet,  and  to  be 
the  son  of  Abu  Ayub,  the  last  of  the  companions  of  the  prophet. 
He  had,  when  a  child,  followed  the  conquering  army  of  Amru 
into  Egypt,  where  he  had  remained  many  years  studying  the 
iark  sciences,  and  particularly  magic,  among  the  Egyptian 
priests.  It  was  moreover  said  that  he  had  found  out  the  secret 
of  prolonging  life,  by  means  of  which  he  had  arrived  to  the 
great  ags  of  upwards  of  two  centuries ;  though,  as  he  did  not 
discover  the  secret  until  well  stricken  in  years,  he  could  only 
perpetuate  his  gray  hairs  and  wrinkles. 

This  wonderful  old  man  was  very  honourably  entertained 
by  the  king;  who,  like  most  superannuated  monarchs,  began 
to  take  physicians  into  great  favour.  He  would  have  assigned 
him  an  apartment  in  his  palace,  but  the  astrologer  preferred  a 
cave  in  the  side  of  the  bill,  which  rises  above  the  city  of  Gran 
ada,  being  the  same  on  which  the  Alhambra  has  since  been 
built.  He  caused  the  cave  to  be  enlarged  so  as  to  form  a 
spacious  and  lofty  hall  with  a  circular  hole  at  the  top,  through 
which,  as  through  a  well,  he  could  see  the  heavens  and  behold 
the  stars  even  at  mid-day.  The  wall  of  this  hall  were  covered 
with  Egyptian  hieroglyphics,  with  cabalistic  symbols,  and  with 
the  figures  of  the  stars  in  their  signs.  This  hall  he  furnished 
vrith  many  implements,  fabricated  under  his  direction  by  cun- 
tiing  artificers  of  Granada,  but  the  occult  properties  of  which 
were  only  known  to  himself.  In  a  little  while  the  sage  Ibra 
him  became  the  bosom  counsellor  of  the  king,  to  whom  he  ap* 
plied  tor  advice  in  every  emergency.  Aben  Habuz  was  once 
inveighing  against  the  injustice  of  his  neighbours,  and  bewail 


THE  LEGEND  OF  TEE  ARABIAN  ASTROLOGER.   77 


ing  the  restless  vigilance  he  had  to  observe  to  guard 
against  their  invasions  ;  —  when  he  had  finished,  the  astrologer 
remained  silent  for  a  moment,  and  then  replied,  "Know,  0 
king,  that  when  I  was  in  Egypt  I  beheld  a  great  marvel  devised 
by  a  pagan  priestess  of  old.  On  a  mountain  above  the  city  of 
Borsa,  and  overlooking  the  great  valley  of  the  Nile,  was  a 
figure  of  a  ram,  and  above  it  a  figure  of  a  cock,  both  of  molten 
brass  and  turning  upon  a  pivot.  Whenever  the  country  was 
threatened  with  invasion,  the  ram  would  turn  in  the  direction 
of  the  enemy  and  the  cock  would  crow  ;  upon  this  the  inhabi 
tants  of  the  city  knew  of  the  danger,  and  of  the  quarter  from 
which  it  was  approaching,  and  could  take  timely  notice  to 
guard  against  it." 

"God  is  great!'"  exclaimed  the  pacific  Aben  Habuz  ;  "what 
a  treasure  would  be  such  a  ram  to  keep  an  eye  upon  these 
mountains  around  me,  and  then  such  a  cock  to  crow  in  time  of 
danger!  Allah  Achbar!  how  securely  I  might  sleep  in  my 
palace  with  such  sentinels  on  the  top  !" 

"  Listen,  O  king,"  continued  the  astrologer  gravely.  "When 
the  victorious  Amru  (God's  peace  be  upon  him  !)  conquered  the 
city  of  Borsa,  this  talisman  was  destroyed  ;  but  I  was  present, 
and  examined  it,  and  studied  its  secret  and  mystery,  and  can 
make  one  of  like,  and  even  of  greater  virtues." 

"  O  wise  son  of  Abu  Ayub,"  cried  Aben  Habuz,  "better  were 
such  a  talisman  than  all  the  watch-towers  on  the  hills,  and 
sentinels  upon  the  borders.  Give  me  such  a  safeguard,  and 
the  riches  of  my  treasury  are  at  thy  command." 

The  astrologer  immediately  set  to  work  to  gratify  the  wishes 
of  the  monarch  ;  shutting  himself  up  in  his  astrological  hall, 
and  exerting  the  necromantic  arts  he  had  learnt  in  Egypt,  he 
summoned  to  his  assistance  the  spirits  and  demons  of  the  Nile. 
iPy  his  command  they  transported  to  his  presence  a  mummy 
from  a  sepulchral  chamber  in  the  centre  of  one  of  the  Pyra 
mids.  It  was  the  mummy  of  the  priest  who  had  aided  by 
magic  art  in  rearing  that  stupendous  pile. 

The  astrologer  opened  the  outer  cases  of  the  mummy,  and 
unfolded  its  many  wrappers.  On  the  breast  of  the  corpse  was 
a  book  written  in  Chaldaic  characters.  He  seized  it  with 
trembling  hand,  then  returning  the  mummy  to  its  case, 
ordered  the  demons  to  transport  it  again  to  its  dark  and  silent 
sepulchre  in  the  Pyramid,  there  to  await  the  final  day  of  resur 
rection  and  judgment. 

This  book,  say  the  traditions,  .was.  the  book  of  knowledge 


78  TUB  ALHAMBRA. 

given  by  God  to  Adam  after  his  fall.  It  had  been  handed 
down  from  generation  to  generation,  to  King  Solomon  the 
Wise,  and  by  the  aid  of  the  wonderful  secrets  in  magic  and  art 
revealed  in  it,  he  had  built  the  temple  of  Jerusalem.  How  it 
had  come  into  the  possession  of  the  builder  of  the  Pyramids, 
He  only  knows  who  knows  all  things. 

Instructed  by  this  mystic  volume,  and  aided  by  the  genii 
which  it  subjected  to  his  command,  the  astrologer  soon  erected 
a  great  tower  upon  the  top  of  the  palace  of  Aben  Habuz,  which 
stood  on  the  brow  of  the  hill  of  the  Albaycin.  The  tower  was 
built  of  stones  brought  from  Egypt,  and  taken,  it  is  said,  from 
one  of  the  Pyramids.  In  the  upper  part  of  the  tower  was  a 
circular  hall,  with  windows  looking  toward  every  point  of  the 
compass,  and  before  each  window  was  a  table,  on  which  was 
arranged,  as  on  a  chess-board,  a  mimic  army  of  horse  and  foot, 
with  the  effigy  of  the  potentate  that  ruled  in  that  direction ;  all 
carved  of  wood.  To  each  of  these  tables  there  was  a  small 
lance,  no  bigger  than  a  bodkin,  on  which  were  engraved  certain 
mysterious  Chaldaic  characters.  This  hall  was  kept  constantly 
closed  by  a  gate  of  brass  with  a  great  lock  of  steel,  the  key  of 
which  was  in  possession  of  the  king. 

On  the  top  of  the  tower  was  a  bronze  figure  of  a  Moorish 
horseman,  fixed  on  a  pivot,  with  a  shield  on  one  arm,  and  his 
lance  elevated  perpendicularly.  The  face  of  this  horseman 
was  towards  the  city,  as  if  keeping  guard  over  it ;  but  if  any 
foe  were  at  hand,  the  figure  would  turn  in  that  direction  and 
would  level  the  lance  as  if  for  action. 

When  this  talisman  was  finished,  Aben  Habuz  was  all  impa 
tient  to  try  its  virtues ;  and  longed  as  ardently  for  an  invasion 
us  he  had  ever  sighed  after  repose.  His  desire  was  soon  grati 
fied.  Tidings  were  brought  early  one  morning,  by  the  sentinel 
appointed  to  watch  the  tower,  that  the  face  of  the  brazen  horse 
man  was  turned  towards  the  mountains  of  Elvira,  and  that  his 
lance  pointed  directly  against  the  pass  of  Lope. 

"  Let  the  drums  and  trumpets  sound  to  arms,  and  all  Gran 
ada  be  put  on  the  alert,"  said  Aben  Habuz. 

"O  king,"  said  the  astrologer,  "let  not  your  city  be  dis 
quieted,  nor  your  warriors  called  to  arms ;  we  need  no  aid  of 
force  to  deliver  you  from  your  enemies.  Dismiss  your  attend 
ants  and  let  us  proceed  alone  to  the  secret  hall  ot  the  tower." 

The  ancient  Aben  Habuz  mounted  the  staircase  of  the  tower, 
leaning  on  the  arm  of  the  still  more  ancient  Ibrahim  Ebn  Abu 
Ayub.  They  unlocked  the  brazen  door  and  entered.  The 


THE  &SGSND  OF  THE  ARABIAN  ASTROLOGER.  79 

window  thai  looked  towards  the  pass  of  Lope  was  open.  "In 
this  direction,"  said  the  astrologer,  "lies  the  danger — approach, 
O  king,  and  behold  the  mystery  of  the  table. " 

King  Aben  Habuz  approached  the  seeming  chess-board,  on 
which  were  arranged  the  small  wooden  effigies ;  when  lo !  they 
were  all  in  motion.  The  horses  pranced  and  curveted,  the 
warriors  brandished  their  weapons,  and  there  was  a  faint 
sound  of  drums  and  trumpets,  and  a  clang  of  arms  and  neigh 
ing  of  steeds,  but  all  no  louder,  nor  more  distinct,  than  the 
hum  of  the  bee  or  summer-fly  in  the  drowsy  ear  of  him  who 
lies  at  noon-tide  in  the  shade. 

"Behold,  O  king,"  said  the  astrologer,  "a  proof  that  thy  en 
emies  are  even  now  in  the  field.  The/  must  be  advancing 
through  yonder  mountains  by  the  pass  of  Lope.  Would  you 
produce  a  panic  and  confusion  amongst  them,  and  cause  them 
to  abandon  their  enterprise  and  retreat  without  loss  of  life, 
strike  these  effigies  with  the  butt  end  of  this  magic  lance ;  but 
would  you  cause  bloody  feud  and  carnage  aiaong  them,  strike 
with  the  point." 

A  livid  streak  passed  across  the  countenance  of  the  pacific 
Aben  Habuz ;  he  seized  the  mimic  lance  with  trembling  eager 
ness,  and  tottered  towards  the  table ;  his  gray  beard  wagged 
with  chuckling  exultation.  "Son  of  Abu  Ayub," exclaimed 
he,  "  I  think  we  will  have  a  little  blood !" 

So  saving  he  thrust  the  magic  lance  into  some  of  the  pigmy 
effigies,  and  belaboured  others  with  the  butt  end ;  upon  which 
the  former  fell,  as  dead,  upon  the  board,  and  the  rest  turning 
upon  each  other,  began,  pell-mell,  a  chance-medley  fight. 

It  was  with  difficulty  the  astrologer  could  stay  the  hand  of 
the  most  pacific  of  monarchs,  and  prevent  him  from  absolutely 
exterminating  his  foes.  At  length  he  prevailed  upon  him  IK) 
leave  the  tower,  and  to  send  out  scouts  to  the  mountains  by 
the  pass  of  Lope. 

They  returned  with  the  intelligence  that  a  Christian  army 
had  advanced  through  the  heart  of  the  Sierra,  almost  withia 
sight  of  Granada,  when  a  dissension  having  broken  out  among 
them,  they  had  turned  their  weapons  against  each  other,  and 
after  much  slaughter,  had  retreated  over  the  border. 

Aben  Habuz  was  transported  with  joy  on  thus  proving  the 
efficacy  of  the  talisman.  "At  length,"  said  he,  "I  shall  leaa 
a  life  of  tranquillity,  and  have  all  my  enemies  in  my  power. 
Oh !  wise  son  of  Abu  Ayub,  what  can  I  bestow  on  thee  in  re- 
ward  for  such  a  blessing  2" 


80  THE  ALHAMBRA. 

"The  wants  erf  an  old  man  and  a  philosopher,  0  king,  are 
few  and  simple — grant  me  but  the  means  of  fitting  up  my  cave 
as  a  suitable  hermitage,  and  I  am  content. " 

"  How  noble  is  the  moderation  of  the  truly  wise !"  exclaimed 
Aben  Habuz,  secretly  pleased  at  the  cheapness  of  the  recom 
pense.  He  summoned  his  treasurer,  and  bade  him  dispense 
whatever  sums  might  be  required  by  Ibrahim  to  complete  and 
furnish  his  hermitage. 

The  astrologer  now  gave  orders  to  have  various  chambers 
hewn  out  of  the  solid  rock,  so  as  to  form  ranges  of  apartments 
connected  with  his  astrological  hall.  These  he  caused  to  be 
furnished  with  luxurious  ottomans  and  divans ;  and  the  walls 
to  be  hung  with  the  richest  silks  of  Damascus.  "  I  am  an  old 
man,"  said  he,  "and  cam  no  longer  rest  my  bones  on  stone 
couches;  and  these  damp  walls  require  covering." 

He  also  had  baths  constructed  and  provided  with  all  kinds  of 
perfumery  and  aromatic  oils;  "for  a  bath,"  said  he,  "is  neces 
sary  to  counteract  the  rigidity  of  age,  and  to  restore  freshneas 
and  suppleness  to  the  frame  withered  by  study. " 

He  caused  the  apartments  to  be  hung  with  innumerable  silver 
and  crystal  lamps,  which  he  filled  with  a  fragrant  oil  prepared 
according  to  a  receipt  discovered  by  him  in  the  tombs  of  Egypt. 
This  oil  was  perpetual  in  its  nature,  and  diffused  a  soft  radi 
ance  like  the  tempered  light  of  day.  "The  light  of  the  sun," 
said  he,  "  is  too  garish  and  violent  for  the  eyes  of  an  old  man; 
and  the  light  of  the  lamp  is  more  congenial  to  the  studies  of  a 
philosopher." 

The  treasurer  of  King  Aben  Habuz  groaned  at  the  sums 
daily  demanded  to  fit  up  this  hermitage,  and  he  carried  his 
complaints  to  the  king.  The  royal  word,  however,  was  given 
—Aben  Habuz  shrugged  his  shoulders. — "We  must  have  pa 
tience,"  said  he;  "this  old  man  has  taken  his  idea  of  a  philo 
sophic  retreat  from  the  interior  of  the  Pyramids  and  the  vast 
ruins  of  Egypt ;  but  all  things  have  an  end,  and  so  will  the 
furnishing  of  his  cavern." 

The  king  was  in  the  right ;  the  hermitage  was  at  length  com 
plete,  and  formed  a  sumptuous  subterranean  palace.  "I  am 
now  content,"  said  Ibrahim  Ebn  Abu  Aynb,  to  the  treasurer-, 
"  I  will  shut  myself  up  in  my  cell  and  devote  my  time  to  study. 
I  desire  nothing  more, — nothing, — except  a  trifling  solace  to 
amuse  me  at  the  intervals  of  mental  labour." 

" Oh  1  wise  Ibrahim,  ask  what  thou  wilt;  I  am  bound  to  fur 
nish  all  that  is  necessary  for  thj>_ solitude." 


THE  LEGEND  OF  THE  ARABIAN  ASTROLOGER.     81 

"I  would  fain  have  then  a  few  dancing  women,"  said  the 
philosopher. 

"Dancing  women!"  echoed  the  treasurer  with  surprise. 

"Dancing  women,"  replied  the  sage,  gravely:  "a  few  will 
suffice ;  for  I  am  an  old  man  and  a  philosopher,  of  simple  hab 
its  and  easily  satisfied.  Let  them,  however,  be  young'jand  fair 
to  look  upon — for  the  sight  of  youth  and  beauty  is  refreshing 
f.o  old  age." 

While  the  philosophic  Ibrahim  Ebn  Ayub  passed  his  time 
thus  sagely  in  his  hermitage,  the  pacific  Aben  Habuz  carried 
on  furious  campaigns  in  effigy  in  his  tower.  It  was  a  glorious 
thing  for  an  old  man  like  himself,  of  quiet  habits,  to  have  war 
made  easy,  and  to  be  enabled  to  amuse  himself  in  his  chamber 
by  brushing  away  whole  armies  like  so  many  swarms  of  flies. 
For  a  time  he  rioted  in  the  indulgence  of  his  humours,  and 
^ven  taunted  and  insulted  his  neighbours  to  induce  them  to 
make  incursions ;  but  by  degrees  they  grew  wary  from  repeated 
disasters,  until  no  one  ventured  to  invade  his  territories.  For 
many  months  the  bronze  horseman  remained  on  the  peace 
establishment  with  his  lance  elevated  in  the  air,  and  the 
worthy  old  monarch  began  to  repine  at  the  want  of  his  ac> 
customed  sport,  and  to  grow  peevish  at  his  monotonous  tran 
quillity. 

At  length^  one  day,  the  talismanic  horseman  veered  suddenly 
round,  and,  lowering  his  lance,  made  a  dead  point  towards  the 
mountains  of  Guadix.  Aben  Habuz  hastened  to  his  tower,  but 
the  magic  table  in  that  direction  remained  quiet — not  a  single 
warrior  was  in  motion.  Perplexed  at  the  circumstance,  he  sent 
forth  a  troop  of  horse  to  scour  the  mountains  and  reconnoitre. 
They  returned  after  three  days'  absence.  Rodovan,  the  captain 
of  the  troop,  addressed  the  king:  "We  have  searched  every 
mountain  pass,"  said  he,  "but  riot  a  helm  or  spear  was  stirring. 
All  that  we  have  found  in  the  course  of  our  foray  was  a  Chris 
tian  damsel  of  surpassing  beauty,  sleeping  at  noon-tide  beside 
a  fountain,  whom  we  have  brought  away  captive. " 

"A  damsel  of  surpassing  beauty!"  exclaimed  Aben  Habuz, 
his  eyes  gleaming  with  animation:  "  let  her  be  conducted  into 
my  presence."  "Pardon  me,  O  king !"  replied  Rodovan,  "but 
our  warfare  at  present  is  scanty ;  and  yields  but  little  harvest. 
I  had  hoped  this  chance  gleaning  would  have  been  allowed  for 
my  services." 

"  Chance  gleaning!"  cried  Aben  Habuz.  "  What! — a  damsel 
of  surpassing-  beauty!  By  the  head  of  m^  father!  it  is  the 


82  THE  ALJTAMBRA. 

Choice  fruits  of  -warfare,  only  to  be  garnered  up  into  the  roya 
keeping. — Let  the  damsel  be  brought  hither  instantly." 

The  beautiful  damsel  was  accordingly  conducted  into  his 
presence.  She  was  arrayed  in  the  Gothic  style,  with  all  the 
luxury  of  ornament  that  had  prevailed  among  the  Gothic 
Spaniards  at  the  time  of  the  Arabian  conquest.  Pearls  of 
dazzling  whiteness  were  entwined  with  her  raven  tresses ;  and 
jewels  sparkled  on  her  forehead,  rivalling  the  lustre  of  her 
eyes.  Around  her  neck  was  a  golden  chain,  to  which  was 
suspended  a  silver  lyre  which  hung  by  her  side. 

The  flashes  of  her  dark  refulgent  eye  were  like  sparks  of  fire 
on  the  withered,  yet  combustible  breast  of  Aben  Habuz,  and 
set  it  in  a  flame.  The  swimming  voluptuousness  of  her  gait 
made  his  senses  reel.  "Fairest  of  women,"  cried  he,  with 
rapture,  "  who  and  what  art  thou?"- 

"  The  daughter  of  one  of  the  Gothic  princes  who  lately  ruled 
over  this  land.  The  armies  of  my  father  have  been  destroyed 
as  if  by  magic  among  these  mountains,  he  has  been  driven  into 
exile,  and  his  daughter  is  a  slave." 

"  Be  comforted,  beautiful  princess — thou  art  no  longer  a 
slave,  but  a  sovereign ;  turn  thine  eyes  graciously  upon  Aben 
Habuz,  and  reign  over  him  and  his  dominions." 

"Beware,  O  king,"  whispered  Ibrahim  Ebn  Abu  Ayub; 
"  this  may  be  some  spirit  conjured  up  by  the  magicians  of  the 
Goths,  and  sent  for  thy  undoing.  Or  it  may  be  one  of  those 
'northern  sorceresses,  who  assume  the  most  seducing  forms  to 
beguile  the  unwary.  Methinks  I  read  witchcraft  in  her  eye, 
and  sorcery  hi  every  movement.  Let  my  sovereign  beware — 
this  must  be  the  enemy  pointed  out  by  the  talisman."  "Son 
of  Abu  Ayub,"  replied  the  king,  "  you  are  a  wise  man  and  a 
conjuror,  I  grant — but  you  are  little  versed  in  the  ways  of 
woman.  In  the  knowledge  of  the  sex,  I  will  yield  to  no  man; 
no,  not  to  the  wise  Solomon  himself,  notwithstanding  the 
number  of  his  wives  and  his  concubines.  As  to  this  damsel, 
I  see  much  comfort  in  her  for  my  old  days,  even  such  comfort 
as  David,  the  father  of  Solomon,  found  in  the  society  of 
Abishag  the  Shunamite." 

"  Hearken,  0  king,"  rejoined  the  astrologer,  suddenly  chang 
ing  his  tone — "I  have  given  thee  many  triumphs  over  thy 
enemies,  and  by  means  of  my  talisman,  yet  thou  hast  never 
given  me  share  of  the  spoils ;  grant  me  this  one  stray  captive 
to  solace  me  in  my  retirement,  and  I  am  content." 

"What I"  cried  Aben  Habuz.  "more  women!  hast  thou  act 


THE  LEGEND  OF  THE  ARABIAN  ASTROLOGER.      83 

already  dancing  women  to  solace  thee  —  what  more  wouldst 
thou  desire." 

"Dancing  women,  have  I,  it  is  true;  but  I  have  none  that 
sing;  and  music  is  a  balm  to  old  age.—  This  captive,  I  perceive, 
beareth  a  silver  lyre,  and  must  be  skilled  in  minstrelsy.  Give 
her  to  me,  I  pray  thee,  to  soothe  my  senses  after  the  toil  of 
study." 

The  ire  of  the  pacific  monarch  was  kindled,  and  he  loaded 
the  philosopher  with  reproaches.  The  latter  retired  indig 
nantly  to  his  hermitage;  but  ere  he  departed,  he  again 
warned  the  monarch  to  beware  of  his  beautiful  captive. 
Where,  in  fact,  is  the  old  man  in  love  that  will  listen  to  coun 
sel?  Aben  Habuz  had  felt  the  full  power  of  the  witchery  of 
tho  eye,  and  the  sorcery  of  movement,  and  the  more  he  gazed, 
the  more  he  was  enamoured. 

He  resigned  himself  to  the  full  sway  of  his  passions.  His 
only  study,  was  how  to  render  himself  amiable  in  the  eyes  of 
the  Gothic  beauty.  He  had  not  youth,  it  is  true,  to  recom 
mend  him,  but  then  he  had  riches ;  and  when  a  lover  is  no 
longer  young,  he  becomes  generous.  The  Zacatin  of  Granada 
was  ransacked  for  the  most  precious  merchandise  of  the  East. 
Silks,  jewels,  precious  gems  and  exquisite  perfumes,  all  that 
Asia  and  Africa  yielded  of  rich  and  rare,  were  lavished  upon 
the  princess.  She  received  all  as  her  due,  and  regarded  them 
with  the  indifference  of  one  accustomed  to  magnificence.  All 
kinds  of  spectacles  and  festivities  were  devised  for  her  enter 
tainment;  minstrelsy,  dancing,  tournaments,  bull-fights. — 
Granada,  for  a  time,  was  a  scene  of  perpetual  pageant.  The 
Gothic  princess  seemed  to  take  a  delight  in  causing  expense, 
as  if  she  sought  to  drain  the  treasures  of  the  monarch.  There 
were  no  bounds  to  her  caprice,  or  to  the  extravagance  of  her 
ideas.  Yet,  notwithstanding  all  this  munificence,  the  vener- 
'  able  Aben  Habuz  could  not  flatter  himself  that  he  had  made 
any  impression  on  her  heart.  She  never  frowned  on  him,  it  is 
true,  but  she  had  a  singular  way  of  baffling  his  tender  ad 
vances.  Whenever  he  began  to  plead  his  passion,  she  struck 
her  silver  lyre.  There  was  a  mystic  charm  in  the  sound :  on 
hearing  of  it,  an  irresistible  drowsiness  seized  upon  the  super 
annuated  lover,  he  fell  asleep,  and  only  woke  when  the  tempo 
rary  fumes  of  passion  had  evaporated.  Still  the  dream  of  love 
had  a  bewitching  power  over  his  senses ;  so  he  continued  to 
dream  on ;  while  all  Granada  scoffed  at  his  infatuation,  and 
croaned  at  the  treasures  lavished  for  a  song. 


84  TEE  ALHAMBRA. 

At  tength  a  danger  burst  over  the  head  of  Aben 
against  which  his  talisman  yielded  him  no  warning.  A  re 
bellion  broke  out  in  the  very  heart  of  his  capital,  headed  by 
the  bold  Rodovan.  Aben  Habuz  was,  for  a  time,  besieged  in 
his  palace,  and  it  was  not  without  the  greatest  difficulty  that 
he  repelled  his  assailants  and  quelled  the  insurrection. 

He  now  felt  himself  compelled  once  more  to  resort  to  the 
assistance  of  the  astrologer.  He  found  him  still  shut  up  in  his 
hermitage,  chewing  the  cud  of  resentment.  "O  wise  son  of 
Abu  Ayub,"  said  he,  "what  thou  hast  foretold,  has,  in  some 
sort,  come  to  pass.  This  Gothic  princess  has  brought  trouble 
and  danger  upon  me." 

"  Is  the  king  then  disposed  to  put  her  away  from  him?"  said 
the  astrologer  with  animation. 

"Sooner  would  I  part  with  my  kingdom!"  replied  Abeu 
Habuz. 

"  What  then  is  the  need  of  disturbing  me  in  my  philosoph 
ical  retirement?"  said  the  astrologer,  peevishly. 

"  Be  not  angry,  O  sagest  of  philosophers.  I  would  fain  have 
one  more  exertion  of  thy  magic  art.  Devise  some  means  by 
which  I  may  be  secure  from  internal  treason,  as  well  as  out 
ward  war — some  safe  retreat,  where  I  may  take  refuge  and  be 
at  peace." 

The  astrologer  ruminated  for  a  moment,  and  a  subtle  gleam 
shone  from  his  eye  under  his  busy  eyebrows. 

"Thou  hast  heard,  no  doubt,  O  king,"  said  he,  "of  the 
palace  and  garden  of  Irem,  whereof  mention  is  made  in  that 
chapter  of  the  Koran  entitled  '  the  dawn  of  day.' " 

"I  have  heard  of  that  garden, — marvellous  things  are 
related  of  it  by  the  pilgrims  who  visit  Mecca,  but  I  have 
thought  them  wild  fables,  such  as  those  are  prone  to  tell  who 
visit  remote  regions." 

"  Listen,  O  king,  and  thou  shalt  know  the  mystery  of  that 
garden.  In  my  younger  days  I  was  in  Arabia  the  Happy, 
tending  my  father's  camels.  One  of  them  strayed  away  from 
the  rest,  and  was  lost.  I  searched  for  it  for  several  days  about 
the  deserts  of  Aden,  until  wearied  and  faint,  I  laid  myself 
down  and  slept  under  a  palm  tree  by  the  side  of  a  scanty  well 
When  I  awoke,  I  found  myself  at  the  gate  of  a  city.  I  entered 
and  beheld  noble  streets  and  squares  and  market  places,  but 
all  were  silent  and  without  an  inhabitant.  I  wandered  on 
until  I  came  to  a  sumptuous  palace,  with  a  garden  adorned 
with  fountains  and  fish-ponds;  and  groves  and  flowers;  and 


THE  LEGEND   OF  THE  ARABIAN  ASTROLOGER.     g5 

orchards  laden  with  delicious  fruit ;  but  still  no  one  was  to  be 
seen.  Upon  which,  appalled  at  this  loneliness,  I  hastened  to 
depart,  and,  after  issuing  forth  at  the  gate  of  the  city,  I  turned 
to  look  upon  the  place,  but  it  was  no  longer  to  be  seen,  nothing 
but  the  silent  desert  extended  before  my  eyes. 

"  In  the  neighbourhood  I  met  with  an  aged  dervise,  learned 
in  the  traditions  and  secrets  of  the  land,  and  related  to  him 
what  had  befallen  me.  '  This, '  said  he,  '  is  the  far-famed  gar 
den  of  Irem,  one  of  the  wonders  of  the  desert.  It  only  appears 
at  times  to  some  wanderer  like  thyself,  gladdening  him.  with 
the  sight  of  towers  and  palaces,  and  garden  walls  overhung 
with  richly  laden  fruit  trees,  and  then  vanishes,  leaving 
nothing  but  a  lonely  desert. — And  this  is  the  story  of  it:— In 
old  times,  when  this  country  was  inhabited  by  the  Addiles, 
king  Sheddad,  the  son  of  Ad,  the  great  grandson  of  Noah, 
founded  here  a  splendid  city.  When  it  was  finished,  and  he 
saw  its  grandeur,  his  heart  was  puffed  up  with  pride  and  arro 
gance,  and  he  determined  to  build  a  royal  palace,  with  gardens 
that  should  rival  all  that  was  related  in  the  Koran  of  the  celes 
tial  paradise.  But  the  curse  of  heaven  fell  upon  him  for  his 
presumption.  He  and  his  subjects  were  swept  from  the  earth, 
and  his  splendid  city,  and  palace,  and  garden,  were  laid  under 
a  perpetual  spell,  that  hides  them  from  the  human  sight,  ex 
cepting  that  they  are  seen  at  intervals ;  by  way  of  keeping  his 
sin  in  perpetual  remembrance.' 

"This  story,  O  king,  and  the  wonders  I  had  seen,  ever  dwell 
in  my  mind,  and,  in  after  years,  when  I  had  been  in  Egypt 
and  made  myself  master  of  all  kinds  of  magic  spells,  I  deter 
mined  to  return  and  visit  the  garden  of  Irem.  I  did  so,  and 
found  it  revealed  to  my  instructed  sight.  I  took  possession  of 
the  palace  of  Sheddad,  and  passed  several  days  in  his  mock 
paradise.  The  genii  who  watch  ever  the  place,  were  obedient 
to  my  magic  power,  and  revealed  to  me  the  spells  by  which 
fche  whole  garden  had  been,  as  it  were,  conjured  into  existence, 
and  by  which  it  was  rendered  invisible.  Such  spells,  O  king, 
are  within  the  scope  of  my  art.  What  sayest  thou?  Wouldst 
thou  have  a  palace  and  garden  like  those  of  Irem,  filled  with 
all  manner  of  delights,  but  hidden  from  the  eyes  of  mortals?" 

"  O  wise  son  of  Abu  Ayub,"  exclaimed  Aben  Habuz,  trem 
bling  with  eagerness — "  Contrive  me  such  a  paradise,  and  ask 
any  reward,  even  to  the  half  of  my  kingdom." 

"Alas,"  replied  the  other,  "  thou  knowest  I  am  an  old  man, 
a  philosopher,  and  easily  satisfied ;  all  the  reward  I  ask,  is 


86  TEE  ALEAMBRA. 

the  first  beast  of  burden,  with  its  load,  that  shall  enter  the 
magic  portal  of  the  palace." 

The  monarch  gladly  agreed  to  so  moderate  a  stipulation,  and 
the  astrologer  began  his  work.  On  the  summit  of  the  hill  im 
mediately  above  his  subterranean  hermitage  he  caused  a  great 
gateway  or  barbican  to  be  erected ;  opening  through  the  centre 
of  a  strong  tower.  There  was  an  outer  vestibule  or  porch  with 
a  lofty  arch,  and  within  it  a  portal  secured  by  massive  gates 
On  the  key-stone  of  the  portal  the  astrologer,  with  his  own 
1  hand,  wrought  the  figure  of  a  huge  key,  and  on  the  key-stone 
of  the  outer  arch  of  the  vestibule,  which  was  loftier  than  that 
of  the  portal,  he  carved  a  gigantic  hand.  These  were  potent 
talismans,  over  which  he  repeated  many  sentences  in  an  un 
known  tongue. 

When  this  gateway  ^as  finished,  he  shut  himself  up  for  two 
days  in  his  astrological  hall,  engaged  in  secret  incantations; 
on  the  third  he  ascended  the  hill,  and  passed  the  whole  day  on 
its  summit.  At  a  late  hour  of  the  night,  he  came  down  and 
presented  himself  before  Aben  Habuz.  "  At  length,  O  king," 
said  he,  "my  labour  is  accomplished.  On  the  summit  of  the 
hill  stands  one  of  the  most  delectable  palaces  that  ever  the 
head  of  man  devised,  or  the  heart  of  man  desired.  It  contains 
sumptuous  halls  and  galleries,  delicious  gardens,  cool  fountains 
and  fragrant  baths;  in  a  word,  the  whole  mountain  is  con 
verted  into  a  paradise.  Like  the  garden  of  Irem,  it  is  pro 
tected  by  a  mighty  charm,  which  hides  it  from  the  view  and 
search  of  mortals,  excepting  such  as  possess  the  secret  of  its 
talismans." 

"Enough,"  cried  Aben  Habuz,  joyfully;  " to-morrow  morn 
ing,  bright  and  early,  we  will  ascend  and  take  possession." 
The  happy  monarch  scarcely  slept  that  night.  Scarcely  had 
the  rays  of  the  sun  begun  to  play  about  the  snowy  summit  of 
the  Sierra  Nevada,  when  he  mounted  his  steed,  and  accom 
panied  only  by  a  few  chosen  attendants,  ascended  a  steep  and 
narrow  road  leading  up  the  hill.  Beside  him  on  a  white  pal 
frey,  rode  the  Gothic  princess,  her  dress  sparkling  with  jewels, 
while  round  her  neck  was  suspended  her  silver  lyre.  The 
astrologer  walked  on  the  other  side  of  the  king,  assisting  his 
steps  with  his  hieroglyphic  staff,  for  he  never  mounted  steed  of 
any  kind. 

Aben  Habuz  looked  to  see  the  towers  of  the  promised  palace 
brightening  above  him,  and  the  embowered  terraces  of  its  gar 
dens  stretching  along  the  heights,  but  as  yet,  nothing  of  the 


THE  LEGEND  OF  THE  ARABIAN  ASTROLOGER.   $7 

fcind  was  to  be  descried.  "'  That  is  the  mystery  and  safeguard 
of  the  place,"  said  the  astrologer,  "nothing  can  be  discerned 
until  you  have  passed  the  spell-bound  gateway,  and  been  put 
in  possession  of  the  place." 

As  they  approached  the  gateway,  the  astrologer  paused,  and 
pointed  out  to  the  king  the  mystic  hand  and  key  carved  upon 
the  portal  and  the  arch.  "These,"  said  he,  "are  the  talismans 
which  guard  the  entrance  to  this  paradise.  Until  yonder  hand 
shall  reach  down  and  seize  that  key,  neither  mortal  power,  nor 
magic  artifice,  can  prevail  against  the  lord  of  this  mountain." 

While  Aben  Habuz  was  gazing  with  open  mouth  and  silent' 
wonder  at  these  mystic  talismans,  the  palfrey  of  the  princess 
proceeded  on,  and  bore  her  in  at  the  portal,  to  the  very  centre 
of  the  barbican. 

"Behold,"  cried  the  astrologer,  "my  promised  reward! — 
the  first  animal  with  its  burden,  that  should  enter  the  magic 
gateway." 

Aben  Habuz  smiled  at  what  he  considered  a  pleasantry  of 
the  ancient  man  ;  but  when  he  found  him  to  be  in  earnest,  his 
gray  beard  trembled  with  indignation. 

"Son  of  Abu  Ayub,"  said  he,  sternly,  "  what  equivocation  is 
this?  Thou  knowest  the  meaning  of  my  promise,  the  first 
beast  of  burden,  with  its  load,  that  should  enter  this  portal. 
Take  the  strongest  mule  in  my  stables,  load  it  with  the  most 
precious  things  of  my  treasury,  and  it  is  thine. ;  but  dare  not  to 
raise  thy  thoughts  to  her,  who  is  the  delight  of  my  heart." 

"What  need  I  of  wealth,"  cried  the  astrologer,  scornfully; 
"have  I  not  the  book  of  knowledge  of  Solomon  the  Wise, 
and  through  it,  the  command  of  the  secret  treasures  of  the 
earth?  The  princess  is  mine  by  right;  thy  royal  word  is 
pledged;  I  claim  her  as  my  own." 

The  princess  sat  upon  her  palfrey,  in  the  prid<9  of  youth 
and  beauty,  and  a  light  smile  of  scorn  curled  her  rosy  lip,  at 
this  dispute  between  two  gray  beards  for  her  charms.  The 
wrath  of  the  monarch  got  the  better  of  his  discretion.  ' '  Base 
son  of  the  desert,"  cried  he,  "  thou  mayest  be  master  of  many 
arts,  but  know  me  for  thy  master — and  presume  not  to  juggle 
with  thy  king." 

"  My  master !"  echoed  the  astrologer,  "  my  king !  The  mon 
arch  of  a  mole-hill  to  claim  sway  over  him  who  possesses  the 
talismans  of  Solomon.  Farewell,  Aben  Habuz ;  reign  over  thy 
petty  kingdom,  and  revel  in  thy  paradise  of  fools — for  me,  ? 
will  laugh  at  thee  in  my  philosophic  retirement." 


88  THE  ALUAMBRA. 

So  saying,  he  seized  the  bridle  of  the  palfrey,  smote  the 
earth  with  his  staff,  and  sank  with  the  Gothic  princess  through 
the  centre  of  the  barbican.  The  earth  closed  over  them,  and 
no  trace  remained  of  the  opening  by  which  they  had  descended. 
Aben  Habuz  was  struck  dumb  for  a  time  with  astonishment. 
Recovering  himself  he  ordered  a  thousand  workmen  to  dig 
with  pickaxe  and  spade  into  the  ground  where  the  astrologer 
had  di  appeared.  They  digged  and  digged,  but  in  vain ;  the 
flinty  bosom  of  the  hill  resisted  their  implements;  or  if  they 
did  penetrate  a  li ttle  way,  the  earth  filled  in  again  as  fast  aa 
they  threw  it  out.  Aben  Habuz  sought  the  mouth  of  the  cav 
ern  at  the  foot  of  the  hill,  leading  to  the  subterranean  palace 
of  the  astrologer,  but  it  was  no  where  to  be  found :  where  once 
had  been  an  entrance,  was  now  a  solid  surface  of  primeval 
rock.  With  the  disappearance  of  Ibrahim  Ebn  Abu  Ayub 
ceased  the  benefit  of  his  talismans.  The  bronze  horseman  re 
mained  fixed  with  his  face  turned  toward  the  hill,  and  his  spear 
pointed  to  the  spot  where  the  astrologer  had  descended,  as 
if  there  still  lurked  the  deadliest  foe  of  Aben  Habuz.  From 
time  to  time  the  sound  of  music  and  the  tones  of  a  female  voice 
jould  be  faintly  heard  from  the  bosom  of  the  hill,  and  a  peasant 
one  day  brought  word  to  the  king,  that  in  the  preceding  night 
he  had  found  a  fissure  in  the  rock,  by  which  he  had  crept  ir 
until  he  looked  down  into  a  subterranean  hall,  in  which  sa» 
flie  astrologer  on  a  magnificent  divan,  slumbering  and  nodding 
to  the  silver  lyre  of  the  princess,  which  seemed  to  hold  a  magic 
Bway  over  his  senses. 

Aben  Habuz  sought  for  the  fissure  in  the  rock,  but  it  was 
again  closed.  He  renewed  the  attempt  to  unearth  his  rival, 
but  all  in  vain.  The  spell  of  the  hand  and  key  was  too  potent 
to  be  counteracted  by  human  power.  As  to  the  summit  of  the 
mountain,  the  site  of  the  promised  palace  and  garden,  it  re 
mained  a  naked  waste:  either  the  boasted  Elysium  was  hidden 
from  sight  by  enchantment,  or  was  a  mere  fable  of  the  astrolo 
ger.  The  world  charitably  supposed  the  latter,  and  some  used 
to  call  the  place  "  the  king's  folly,"  while  others  named  it  "  the 
fool's  Paradise." 

To  add  to  the  chagrin  of  Aben  Habuz,  the  neighbours,  whom 
he  had  defied  and  taunted,  and  cut  up  at  his  leisure,  while 
master  of  the  talismanic  horseman,  finding  him  no  longer  pro 
tected  by  magic  spell,  made  inroads  into  his  territories  from 
all  sides,  and  the  remainder  of  the  life  of  the  most  pacific  oi 
monarch*,  "^aa  a  tissue  of  turmoils. 


LI- GEM)   OF  TU&  THREE  BEAUTIFUL  PRINCESSES.      89 

At  length,  Aben  Habuz  died  and  was  buried.  Ages  have 
since  rolled  away.  The  Alhambra  has  been  built  on  the  event 
ful  mountain,  and  in  some  measure  realizes  the  fabled  delights 
of  the  garden  of  Irem.  The  spell-bound  gateway  still  exists, 
protected,  no  doubt,  by  the  mystic  hand  and  key,  and  now 
forms  the  gate  of  justice,  the  grand  entrance  to  the  fortress. 
Under  that  gateway,  it  is  said,  the  old  astrologer  remains  in' 
his  subterranean  hall ;  nodding  on  his  divan,  lulled  by  the  sil 
ver  lyre  of  the  princess. 

The  old  invalid  sentinels,  who  mount  guard  at  the  gate,  hear 
the  strains  occasionally  in  the  summer  nights,  and,  yielding  to 
their  soporific  power,  doze  quietly  at  their  posts.  Nay,  so 
drowsy  an  influence  pervades  the  place,  that  even  those  who 
wabch  by  day,  may  generally  be  seen  nodding  on  the  stone 
benches  of  the  barbican,  or  sleeping-  under  the  neighbouring 
trees ;  so  that  it  is,  in  fact,  the  drowsiest  military  post  in  all 
Christendom.  All  this,  say  the  legends,  will  endure;  from 
age  to  age  tne  princess  will  remain  captive  to  the  astrologer, 
and  the  astrologer  bound  up  in  magic  slumber  by  the  princess, 
until  the  last  day ;  unless  the  mystic  hand  shall  grasp  the  fated 
key,  and  dispel  the  whole  charm  of  this  enchanted  mountain. 


LEGEND   OF   THE   THEEE   BEAUTIFUL   PRINCESSEa 

IN  old  times  there  reigned  a  Moorish  king  in  Granada,  whose 
name  was  Mohamed,  to  which  his  subjects  added  the  appella 
tion  of  el  Haygari,  or  "  the  left-handed."  Some  say  he  was  so 
called,  on  account  of  his  being  really  more  expert  with  his  sin 
ister,  than  his  dexter  hand ;  others,  because  he  was  prone  to 
take  everything  by  the  wrong  end ;  or,  in  other  words,  to  mar 
wherever  he  meddled.  Certain  it  is,  either  through  misfortune 
or  mismanagement,  he  was  continually  in  trouble.  Thrice  was 
he  driven  from  his  throne,  and  on  one  occasion  barely  escaped 
to  Africa  with  his  life,  in  the  disguise  of  a  fisherman.  Still  he 
was  as  brave  as  he  was  blundering,  and,  though  left-handed, 
wielded  his  scimitar  to  such  purpose,  that  he  each  time  re 
established  Mmself  upon  his  throne,  by  dint  of  hard  fighting. 
Instead,  however,  of  learning  wisdom  from  adversity,  he 
hardened  his  neck,  and  stiffened  his  left-arm  in  wilfulnec3. 
evils  of  a  public  nature  which  he  thus  brought  upon  hin> 


90  TUE  ALUAMBRA. 

self  and  his  kingdom,  may  be  learned  by  those  who  will  delve 
into  the  Arabian  annals  of  Granada ;  the  present  legend  deals 
but  with  his  domestic  policy. 

As  this  Mohamed  was  one  day  riding  forth,  with  a  train  of 
his  courtiers,  by  the  foot  of  the  mountain  of  Elvira,  he  met  a 
band  of  horsemen  returning  from  a  foray  into  the  land  of  the 
Christians.  They  were  conducting  a  long  string  of  mules  laden 
with  spoil,  and  many  captives  of  both  sexes,  among  whom,  the 
monarch  was  struck  with  the  appearance  of  a  beautiful  damsel 
richly  attired,  who  sat  weeping,  on  a  low  palfrey,  and  heeded 
not  the  consoling  words  of  a  duenna,  who  rode  beside  her. 

The  monarch  was  struck  with  her  beauty,  and  on  inquiring 
of  the  captain  of  the  troop,  found  that  she  was  the  daughter  of 
the  alcayde  of  a  frontier  fortress  that  had  been  surprised  and 
sacked  in  the  course  of  the  foray. 

Mohamed  claimed  her  as  his  royal  share  of  the  booty,  and 
had  her  conveyed  to  his  harem  in  the  Alhambra.  There  every 
thing  was  devised  to  soothe  her  melancholy,  and  the  monarch, 
more  and  more  enamoured,  sought  to  make  her  his  queen. 

The  Spanish  maid  at  first  repulsed  his  addresses.  He  was 
an  infidel— he  was  the  open  foe  of  her  country — what  was 
worse,  he  was  stricken  in  years ! 

The  monarch  finding  his  assiduities  of  no  avail,  determined 
to  enlist  in  his  favour  the  duenna,  who  had  been  captured  with 
the  lady.  She  was  an  Andalusian  by  birth,  whose  Christian 
name  is  forgotten,  being  mentioned  in  Moorish  legends,  by  no 
other  appellation  than  that  of  the  discreet  Cadiga — and  dis 
creet,  in  truth  she  was,  as  her  whole  history  makes  evident. 
No  sooner  had  the  Moorish  king  held  a  little  private  conversa 
tion  with  her,  than  she  saw  at  once  the  cogency  of  his  reason 
ing,  and  undertook  his  cause  with  her  young  mistress. 

"  Go  to,  now!"  cried  she;  "what  is  there  in  all  this  to  weep 
and  wail  about?— Is  it  not  better  to  be  mistreis  of  this  beautiful 
palace  with  all  its  gardens  and  fountains,  than  to  be  shut  up 
within  your  father's  old  frontier  tower?  As  to  this  Mohamed 
being  an  infidel — what  is  that  to  the  purpose?  You  marry  him 
— not  his  religion.  And  if  he  is  waxing  a  little  old,  the  soone/ 
will  you  be  a  widow  and  mistress  of  yourself.  At  any  rate  you 
are  in  his  power — and  must  either  be  a  queen  or  a  slave. — 
When  in  the  hands  of  a  robber,  it  is  better  to  sell  one's  mer- 
chandies  for  a  fair  price,  than  to  have  it  taken  by  main  force." 

The  arguments  of  the  discreet  Cadiga  prevailed.  The  Span 
ish  lady  dried  her  tears  and  became  the  spouse  of  Mohamed 


LEGEND  OF  THE  THREE  BEAUTIFUL  PRINCESSES.     91 

the  left-handed.  She  even  conformed  in  appearance  to  the 
faith  of  her  royal  husband,  and  her  discreet  duenna  immedi 
ately  became  a  zealous  convert  to  the  Moslem  doctrines;  it 
was  then  the  latter  received  the  Arabian  name  of  Cadiga,  and 
was  permitted  to  remain  in  the  confidential  employ  of  her 
mistress. 

In  due  process  of  time,  the  Moorish  king  was  made  the 
proud  and  happy  father  of  three  lovely  daughters,  all  born  at 
a  birth.  He  could  have  wished  they  had  been  sons,  but  con 
soled  himself  with  the  idea  that  three  daughters  at  a  birth, 
were  pretty  well  for  a  man  somewhat  stricken  in  years,  and 
left-handed. 

As  usual  with  all  Moslem  monarchs,  he  summoned  his 
astrologers  on  this  happy  event.  They  cast  the  nativities  of 
the  three  princesses,  and  shook  their  heads.  "Daughters, 
O  king,"  said  they,  "are  always  precarious  property;  but 
these  will  most  need  your  watchfulness  when  they  arrive  at  a 
marriageable  age. — At  that  time  gather  them  under  your 
wing,  and  trust  them  to  no  other  guardianship." 

Mohamed  the  left-handed  was  acknowledged  by  his  courtiers 
to  be  a  wise  king,  and  was  certainly  so  considered  by  himself. 
The  prediction  of  the  astrologers  caused  him  but  little  disquiet, 
trusting  to  his  ingenuity  to  guard  his  daughters  and  outwit 
the  fates. 

The  threefold  birth  was  the  last  matrimonial  trophy  of  the 
monarch;  his  queen  bore  him  no  more  children,  and  died 
within  a  few  years,  bequeathing  her  infant  daughters  to  his 
love,  and  to  the  fidelity  of  the  discreet  Cadiga. 

Many  years  had  yet  to  elapse  before  the  princessei  would 
arrive  at  that  period  of  danger,  the  marriageable  age.  "It  is 
good,  however,  to  be  cautious  in  time,"  said  the  shrewd  mon 
arch  ;  so  he  determined  to  have  them  reared  in  the  royal  castle 
of  Salobrena.  This  was  a  sumptuous  palace,  incrusted  as  it 
were  in  a  powerful  Moorish  fortress,  on  the  summit  of  a  hill 
that  overlooks  the  Mediterranean  sea. 

It  was  a  royal  retreat,  in  which  the  Moslem  monarchs  shut 
up  such  of  their  relations  as  might  endanger  their  safety; 
allowing  them  all  kinds  of  luxuries  and  amusements,  in  the 
midst  of  which  they  passed  their  lives  in  voluptuous  indolence. 

Here  the  princesses  remained,  immured  from  the  world,  but 
surrounded  by  enjoyments;  and  attended  by  female  slaves 
who  anticipated  their  wishes.  They  had  delightful  gardens 
for  their  recreation,  filled  with  the  rarest  fruits  and  flowers, 


92  THE  ALHAMBRA 

with  aromatic  groves  and  perfumed  baths.  On  three  sides  tb« 
tastle  looked  down  upon  a  rich  valley,  enamelled  with  all 
kinds  of  culture,  and  bounded  by  the  lofty  Alpuxarra  moun 
tains  ;  on  the  other  side  it  overlooked  the  broad  sunny  sea. 

In  this  delicious  abode,  in  a  propitious  climate  and  under 
a  cloudless  sky,  the  three  princesses  grew  up  into  wondrous 
beauty;  but,  though  all  reared  alike,  they  gave  early  tokens 
of  diversity  of  character.  Their  names  were  Zayda,  Zorayda, 
and  Zorahayda ;  and  such  was  the  order  of  seniority,  for  there 
had  been  precisely  three  minutes  between  their  births. 

Zayda,  the  eldest,  was  of  an  intrepid  spirit,  and  took  the 
lead  of  her  sisters  in  every  thing,  as  she  had  done  in  entering 
first  into  the  world.  She  was  curious  and  inquisitive,  and 
fond  of  getting  at  the  bottom  of  things. 

Zorayda  had  a  great  feeling  for  beauty,  which  was  the 
reason,  no  doubt,  of  her  delighting  to  regard  her  own  image 
in  a  mirror  or  a  fountain,  and  of  her  fondness  for  flowers  and 
jewels,  and  other  tasteful  ornaments. 

As  to  Zorahayda,  the  youngest,  she  was  soft  and  timid,  and 
extremely  sensitive,  with  a  vast  deal  of  disposable  tenderness, 
as  was  evident  from  her  number  of  pet  flowers,  and  pet  birds, 
and  pet  animals,  all  of  which  she  cherished  with  the  fondest 
care.  Her  amusements,  too,  were  of  a  gentle  nature,  and 
mixed  up  with  musing  and  reverie.  She  would  sit  for  hours 
in  a  balcony  gazing  on  the  sparkling  stars  of  a  summer  night; 
or  on  the  sea  when  lit  up  by  the  moon,  and  at  such  times  the 
song  of  a  fisherman  faintly  heard  from  the  beach,  or  the  notes 
of  an  arrafia  or  Moorish  flute  from  some  gliding  bark,  sufficed 
to  elevate  her  feelings  into  ecstasy.  The  least  uproar  of  the 
elements,  however,  filled  her  with  dismay,  and  a  clap  of  thun 
der  was  enough  to  throw  her  into  a  swoon,. 

Years  moved  on  serenely,  and  Cadiga,  to  whom  the  prin 
cesses  were  confided,  was  faithful  to  her  trust  and  attended 
them  with  unremitting  care. 

The  castle  of  Salobrefia,  as  has  been  said,  was  built  upon  a 
hill  on  the  sea  coast.  One  of  the  exterior  walls  straggled  down 
the  profile  of  the  hill,  until  it  reached  a  jutting  rock  overhang 
ing  the  sea,  with  a  narrow  sandy  beach  at  its  foot,  laved  by 
the  rippling  billows.  A  small  watch  tower  on  this  rock  had 
been  fitted  up  as  a*  pavilion,  with  latticed  windows  to  admit 
the  sea  breeze.  Here  the  princesses  used  to  pass  the  sultry 
hours  of  mid-day. 

The  curious  Zayda  was  one  day  seated  at  one  of  the  windows 


LEGEND  OF  THE  THREE  BEAUTIFUL  PRINCESSES.     93 

of  the  pavilion,  as  her  sisters,  reclined  on  ottomans,  were  tak 
ing  the  siesta,  or  noon-tide  slumber.  Her  attention  had  been 
attracted  to  a  galley,  which  came  coasting  along,  with  meas 
ured  strokes  of  the  oar.  As  it  drew  near,  she  observed  that  it 
was  filled  with  armed  men.  The  galley  anchored  at  the  foot 
of  the  tower :  a  number  of  Moorish  soldiers  landed  on  the  nar 
row  beach,  conducting  several  Christian  prisoners.  The  curi 
ous  Zayda  awakened  her  sisters,  and  all  three  peeped  cau 
tiously  through  the  close  jalousies  of  the  lattice,  which 
screened  them  from  sight.  Among  the  prisoners  were  three 
Spanish  cavaliers,  richly  dressed.  They  were  in  the  flower  of 
youth,  and  of  noble  presence,  and  the  lofty  manner  in  which 
they  carried  themselves,  though  loaded  with  chains  and  sur 
rounded  with  enemies,  bespoke  the  grandeur  of  their  souls. 
The  princesses  gazed  with  intense  and  breathless  interest. 
Cooped  up  as  they  had  been  in  this  castle  among  female  at 
tendants,  seeing  nothing  of  the  male  sex  but  black  slaves,  or 
the  rude  fishermen  of  the  sea  coast,  it  is  not  to  be  wondered 
at,  that  the  appearance  of  three  gallant  cavaliers  in  the  pride 
of  youth  and  manly  beauty  should  produce  some  commotion 
in  their  bosoms. 

"Did  ever  nobler  being  tread  the  earth,  than  that  cavalier  in 
crimson?"  cried  Zayda,  the  eldest  of  the  sisters.  "See  how 
proudly  he  bears  himself,  as  though  all  around  him  were  his 
slaves !" 

"But  notice  that  one  in  green,"  exclaimed  Zorayda;  "what 
grace !  what  elegance !  what  spirit !" 

The  gentle  Zorahayda  said  nothing,  but  she  secretly  gave 
preference  to  the  cavalier  in  green. 

The  princesses  remained  gazing  until  the  prisoners  were  out 
of  sight ;  then  heaving  long-drawn  sighs,  they  turned  round, 
looked  at  each  other  for  a  moment,  and  sat  down  musing  and 
pensive  on  their  ottomans. 

The  discreet  Cadiga  found  them  in  this  situation;  they  re 
lated  to  her  what  they  had  seen,  and  even  the  withered  heart 
of  the  duenna  was  warmed.  "Poor  youths!"  exclaimed  she, 
"  I'll  warrant  their  captivity  makes  many  a  fair  and  high-born 
lady's  heart  ache  in  their  native  land !  Ah,  my  children,  you 
have  little  idea  of  the  life  these  cavaliers  lead  in  their  own 
country.  Such  prankling  at  tournaments!  such  devotion  to 
the  ladies !  such  courting  and  serenading !" 

The  curiosity  of  Zayda  was  fully  aroused.  She  was  in 
satiable  in  her  inquiries,  and  drew  from  the  duenna  the  most 


94  TEE  ALHAMBRA. 

animated  pictures  of  the  scenes  of  her  youthful  days  and 
native  land.  The  beautiful  Zorayda  bridled  up,  and  slyly  re 
garded  herself  in  a  mirror,  when  the  theme  turned  upon  the 
charms  of  the  Spanish  ladies ;  while  Zorahayda  suppressed  a 
struggling  sigh  at  the  mention  of  moonlight  serenades. 

Every  day  the  curious  Zayda  renewed  her  inquiries;  and 
every  day  the  sage  duenna  repeated  her  stories,  which  were 
listened  to  with  unmoved  interest,  though  frequent  sighs,  bj 
her  gentle  auditors.  The  discreet  old  woman  at  length  awak 
ened  to  the  mischief  she  might  be  doing.  She  had  been  ac 
customed  to  think  of  the  princesses  only  as  children,  but  they 
had  imperceptibly  ripened  beneath  her  eye,  and  now  bloomed 
before  her  three  lovely  damsels  of  the  marriageable  age. — It  is 
time,  thought  the  duenna,  to  give  notice  to  the  king. 

Mohamed  the  left-handed  was  seated  one  morning  on  a 
divan  in  one  of  the  court  halls  of  the  Alhambra,  when  a  noble 
arrived  from  the  fortress  of  Salobrena,  with  a  message  from 
the  sage  Cadiga,  congratulating  him  on  the  anniversary  of  his 
daughters'  birth-day.  The  slave  at  the  same  time  presented  a 
delicate  little  basket  decorated  with  flowers,  within  which,  on 
a  couch  of  vine  and  fig  leaves,  lay  a  peach,  an  apricot,  and  a 
nectarine,  with  their  bloom  and  down,  and  dewy  sweetness 
upon  them,  and  all  in  the  early  stage  of  tempting  ripeness. 
The  monarch  was  versed  in  the  oriental  language  of  fruits  and 
flowers,  and  readily  divined  the  meaning  of  this  emblematical 
offering. 

"So,"  said  he,  "the  critical  period  pointed  out  by  the  as 
trologers  is  arrived. — My  daughters  are  at  a  marriageable  age. 
What  is  to  be  done?  They  are  shut  up  from  the  eyes  of  men, — 
they  are  under  the  eye  of  the  discreet  Cadiga — all  very  good  — 
but  still  they  are  not  under  my  own  eye,  as  was  prescribed  by 
the  astrologers.— '  I  must  gather  them  under  my  wing,  and 
trust  to  no  other  guardianship.'  " 

So  saying,  he  ordered  that  a  tower  of  the  Alhambra  should 
be  prepared  for  their  reception,  and  departed  at  the  head  of 
his  guards  for  the  fortress  of  Salobrena,  to  conduct  them  home 
in  person. 

About  three  years  had  elapsed  since  Mohamed  had  beheld 
bis  daughters,  and  he  could  scarcely  credit  his  eyes  at  the 
wonderful  change  which  that  small  space  of  time  had  made  in 
their  appearance.  During  the  interval  they  had  passed  thnt 
wondrous  boundary  line  in.  female  life,  which  separates  the 
crude,  unformed,  and  thQu^htlcs3,jgirl  from  the  blooming, 


LEGEND  OF  THE  THREE  BEAUTIFUL  PRINCESSES.     9." 

blushing,  meditative  woman.  It  is  like  passing  from  the  flat, 
bleak,  uninteresting  plains  of  La  Mancha  to  the  voluptuous 
valleys  and  swelling  hills  of  Andalusia. 

Zayda  was  tall  and  finely  formed,  with  a  lofty  demeanour 
and  a  penetrating  eye.  She  entered  with  a  stately  and  decided 
step,  and  made  a  profound  reverence  to  Mohamed,  treating 
him  more  as  her  sovereign  than  her  father.  Zorayda  was  of 
the  middle  height,  with  an  alluring  look  and  swimming  gait, 
and  a  sparkling  beauty  heightened  by  the  assistance  of  the 
toilette.  She  approached  her  father  with  a  smile,  kissed  his 
hand,  and  saluted  him  with  several  stanzas  from  a  popular 
Arabian  poet,  with  which  the  monarch  was  delighted.  Zora- 
hayda  was  shy  and  timid ;  smaller  than  her  sisters,  and  with 
a  beauty  of  that  tender,  beseeching  kind  which  looks  for  fond 
ness  and  protection.  She  was  little  fitted  to  command  like 
her  elder  sister,  or  to  dazzle  like  the  second ;  but  was  rather 
formed  to  creep  to  the  bosom  of  manly  affection,  to  nestle 
within  it,  and  be  content.  She  drew  near  her  father  with  a 
timid  and  almost  faltering  step,  and  would  have  taken  his 
hand  to  kiss,  but  on  looking  up  into  his  face,  and  seeing  it 
beaming  with  a  paternal  smile,  the  tenderness  of  her  nature 
broke  forth,  and  she  threw  herself  upon  his  neck. 

Mohamed,  the  left-handed,  surveyed  his  blooming  daughters 
with  mingled  pride  and  perplexity;  for  while  he  exulted  in 
their  charms,  he  bethought  himself  of  the  prediction  of  the 
astrologers.  "Three  daughters! — three  daughters !"  muttered 
he,  repeatedly  to  himself,  "and  all  of  a  marriageable  age! 
Here's  tempting  hesperian  fruit,  that  requires  a  dragoa  watch !" 

He  prepared  for  his  return  to  Granada,  by  sending  heralds 
before  him,  commanding  every  one  to  keep  out  of  the  road  by 
which  he  was  to  pass,  and  that  all  doors  and  windows  should 
be  closed  at  the  approach  of  the  princesses.  This  done,  he  set 
forth  escorted  by  a  troop  of  black  horsemen  of  hideous  aspect, 
and  clad  in  shining  armour. 

The  princesses  rode  beside  the  king,  closely  veiled,  on  beauti 
ful  white  palfreys,  with  velvet  caparisons  embroidered  with 
gold,  and  sweeping  the  ground ;  the  bits  and  stirrups  were  of 
gold,  and  the  silken  bridles  adorned  with  pearls  and  precious 
stones.  The  palfreys  were  covered  with  little  silver  bells  that 
made  the  most  musical  tinkling  as  they  ambled  gently  along. 
Wo  to  the  unlucky  wight,  however,  who  lingered  in  the  way 
when  he  heard  the  tinkling  of  these  bells—the  guards  were  or 
dered  to  cut  him  down  without  mercy*. 


96  TUB  ALUAMBRA. 

The  cavalcade  was  drawing  near  to  Granada,  when  it  over 
took,  on  the  banks  of  the  river  Xenil,  a  small  body  of  Moorish 
soldiers,  with  a  convoy  of  prisoners.  It  was  too  late  for  the 
soldiers  to  get  out  of  the  way,  so  they  threw  themselves  on 
their  faces  on  the  earth,  ordering  their  captives  to  do  the  like. 
Among  the  prisoners,  were  the  three  identical  cavaliers  whom 
the  princesses  had  seen  from  the  pavilion.  They  either  did 
not  understand,  or  were  too  haughty  to  obey  the  order,  and 
remained  standing  and  gazing  upon  the  cavalcade  as  it  ap 
proached. 

The  ire  of  the  monarch  was  kindled  at  this  flagrant  defiance 
of  his  orders,  and  he  determined  to  punish  it  with  his  own 
hand.  Drawing  his  scimitar  and  pressing  forward,  he  was 
about  to  deal  a  left-handed  blow,  that  would  have  been  fatal 
to  at  least  one  of  the  gazers,  when  the  princesses  crowded 
round  him,  and  implored  mercy  for  the  prisoners;  even  the 
timid  Zorahayda  forgot  her  shyness  and  became  eloquent  in 
their  behalf.  Mohamed  paused,  with  uplifted  scimitar,  when 
the  captain  of  the  guard  threw  himself  at  his  feet.  "  Let  not 
your  majesty,"  said  he,  "do  a  deed  that  may  cause  great 
scandal  throughout  the  kingdom.  These  are  three  brave  and 
noble  Spanish  knights  who  have  been  taken  in  battle,  fighting 
like  lions ;  they  are  of  high  birth,  and  may  bring  great  ran 
soms." 

"Enough,"  said  the  king;  "I  will  spare  their  lives,  but 
punish  their  audacity — let  them  be  taken  to  the  Vermilion 
towers  and  put  to  hard  labour." 

Mohamed  was  making  one  of  his  usual  left-handed  blunders. 
In  the  tumult  and  agitation  of  this  blustering  scene,  the  veils 
of  the  three  princesses  had  been  thrown  back,  and  the  radi 
ance  of  their  beauty  revealed;  and  in  prolonging  the  parley, 
the  king  had  given  that  beauty  time  to  have  its  full  effect. 
In  those  days,  people  fell  in  love  much  more  suddenly  than 
at  present,  as  all  ancient  stories  make  manifest;  it  is  not 
a  matter  of  wonder,  therefore,  that  the  hearts  of  the  three 
cavaliers  were  completely  captivated;  especially  as  grati 
tude  was  added  to  their  admiration:  it  is  a  little  singular, 
however,  though  no  less  certain,  that  each  of  them  was 
enraptured  with  a  several  beauty.  As  to  the  princesses, 
they  were  more  than  ever  struck  with  the  noble  demeanour 
of  the  captives,  and  cherished  in  their  hearts  all  that  they 
had  heard  of  their  valour  and  noble  lineage. 

The  cavalcade   resumed  its  march;   the  three   princesses 


LEGEND  OF  THE  THREE  BEAUTIFUL  PRINCESSES.     97 

rode  pensively  along  on  their  tinkling  palfreys,  now  and 
then  stealing  a  glance  behind  in  search  of  the  Christian 
captives,  and  the  latter  were  conducted  to  their  allotted 
prison  in  the  Vermilion  towers. 

The  residence  provided  for  the  princesses,  was  one  of  the 
most  dainty  that  fancy  could  devise.  It  was  in  a  tower 
somewhat  apart  from  the  main  palace  of  the  Alhambra, 
though  connected  with  it  by  the  main  wall  that  encircled 
the  whole  summit  of  the  hill.  On  one  side  it  looked  into 
the  interior  of  the  fortress,  and  had  at  its  foot  a  small  gar 
den  filled  with  the  rarest  flowers.  On  the  other  side  it  over 
looked  a  deep  embowered  ravine,  that  separated  the  grounds 
of  the  Alhambra  from  those  of  the  Generaliffe.  The  interior- 
of  the  tower  was  divided  into  small  fairy  apartments,  beauti 
fully  ornamented  in  the  light  Arabian  style,  surrounding  a 
lofty  hall,  the  vaulted  roof  of  which  rose  almost  to  the  summit 
of  the  tower.  The  walls  and  ceiling  of  the  hall  were  adorned 
with  arabesques  and  fret-work  sparkling  with  gold,  and  with 
brilliant  pencilling.  In  the  centre  of  the  marble  pavement, 
was  an  alabaster  fountain,  set  round  with  aromatic  shrubs 
and  flowers,  and  throwing  up  a  jet  of  water  that  cooled  the 
whole  edifice  and  had  a  lulling  sound.  Round  the  hall  were 
suspended  cages  of  gold  and  silver  wire,  containing  singing 
birds  of  the  finest  plumage  or  sweetest  note. 

The  princesses  having  been  represented  as  always  cheerful 
when  in  the  castle  of  Salobrefia,  the  king  had  expected  to 
see  them  enraptured  with  the  Alhambra.  To  his  surprise, 
however,  they  began  to  pine,  and  grew  green  and  melancholy, 
and  dissatisfied  with  every  thing  around  them.  The  flowers 
yielded  them  no  fragrance;  the  song  of  the  nightingale  dis 
turbed  their  night's  rest,  and  they  were  out  of  all  patience 
with  the  alabaster  fountain,  with  its  eternal  drop,  drop,  and 
splash,  splash,  from  morning  till  night,  and  from  night  till 
morning. 

The  king,  who  was  somewhat  of  a  testy,  tyrannical  old  man, 
took  this  at  first  in  high  dudgeon;  but  he  reflected  that  his 
daughters  had  arrived  at  an  age  when  the  female  mind 
expands  and  its  desires  augment.  "They  are  no  longer 
children,"  said  he  to  himself;  "they  are  women  grown,  and 
require  suitable  objects  to  interest  them."  He  put  in  requisi 
tion,  therefore,  all  the  dress  makers,  and  the  jewellers,  and 
the  artificers  in  gold  and  silver  throughout  the  Zacatin  of 
Granada,  and  the  princesses  were  overwhelmed  with  robes 


98  THK  ALHAMBRA. 

of  silk,  and  of  tissue  and  of  brocade,  and  cachemire  shawls, 
aaid  necklaces  of  pearls,  and  diamonds,  and  rings,  and  brace 
lets,  and  anklets,  and  all  manner  of  precious  things. 

All,  however,  was  of  no  avail.  The  princesses  continued 
pale  and  languid  in  the  midst  of  their  finery,  and  looked  like 
tliroe  blighted  rose  buds,  drooping  from  one  stalk.  The  king 
was  at  his  wit's  end.  He  had  in  general  a  laudable  confidence 
in  his  own  judgment,  and  never  took  advice.  "The  whims 
and  caprices  of  three  marriageable  damsels,  however,  are 
sufficient,"  said  he,  "to  puzzle  the  shrewdest  head."— So,  for 
once  in  his  life,  he  called  in  the  aid  of  counsel. 

The  person  to  whom  he  applied  was  the  experienced  duenna. 

"  Cadiga,"  said  the  king,  "  I  know  you  to  be  one  of  the  most 
discreet  women  in  the  whole  world,  as  well  as  one  of  the  most 
trustworthy;  for  these  reasons,  I  have  always  continued  you 
about  the  persons  of  my  daughters.  Fathers  cannot  be  too 
wary  in  whom  they  repose  such  confidence.  I  now  wish  you 
to  find  out  the  secret  malady  that  is  preying  upon  the  prin 
cesses,  and  to  devise  some  means  of  restoring  them  to  health 
and  cheerfulness." 

Cadiga  promised  implicit  obedience.  In  fact,  she  knew 
more  of  the  malady  of  the  princesses  than  they  did  them 
selves.  Shutting  herself  up  with  them,  however,  she  endea 
voured  to  insinuate  herself  into  their  confidence. 

"My  dear  children,  what  is  the  reason  you  are  so  dismal 
and  downcast,  in  so  beautiful  a  place,  where  you  have  every 
thing  that  heart  can  wish?" 

The  princesses  looked  vacantly  round  the  apartment,  and 
sighed. 

"What  more,  then,  would  you  have?  Shall  I  get  you  the 
i/onderful  parrot  that  talks  all  languages,  and  is  the  delight  of 
'iranada?" 

' '  Odious ! ' '  exclaimed  the  princess  Zayda.  ' '  A  horrid  scream 
ing  bird  that  chatters  words  without  ideas!  One  must  be 
without  brains  to  tolerate  such  a  pest." 

"Shall  I  send  for  a  monkey  from  the  rock  of  Gibraltar,  to 
divert  you  with  his  antics?" 

"A  monkey!  faugh  1"  cried  Zorayda,  "the  detestable  mimic 
of  man.  I  hate  the  nauseous  animal." 

"What  say  you  to  the  famous  black  singer,  Casern,  from 
the  royal  harem  in  Morocco.  They  say  he  has  a  voice  as  fine 
as  a  woman's." 

"I  am  terrified  at  the  sight  of  these  black  slaves."  said  the 


LEGEND  OF  THE  THREE  BEAUTIFUL  PRINCESSES.     99 

delicate   Zorahayda;    "besides,    I   have   lost   all   relish   for 
music." 

"Ah,  my  child,  you  would  not  say  so,"  replied  the  old 
woman,  slyly,  "had  you  heard  the  music  I  heard  last  even 
ing,  from  the  three  Spanish  cavaliers  whom  we  met  on  our 
journey.— But  bless  me,  children!  what  is  the  matter  that 
you  blush  so,  and  are  in  such  a  flutter  ?" 

"Nothing,  nothing,  good  mother,  pray  proceed." 

"Well— as  I  was  passing  by  the  Vermilion  towers,  last 
evening,  I  saw  the  three  cavaliers  resting  after  their  day's 
labour.  One  was  playing  on  the  guitar  so  gracefully,  and 
the  others  sang  by  turns — and  they  did  it  in  such  style,  that 
the  very  guards  seemed  like  statues  or  men  enchanted.  Allah 
forgive  me,  I  could  not  help  being  moved  at  hearing  the  songs 
of  my  native  country. — And  then  to  see  three  such  noble  and 
handsome  yoviths  in  chains  and  slavery." 

Here  the  kind-hearted  old  woman  could  not  restrain  her  tears. 

"  Perhaps,  mother,  you  could  manage  to  procure  us  a  sight 
of  these  cavaliers,"  said  Zayda. 

"I  think,"  said  Zorayda,  "a  little  music  would  be  quite 
reviving." 

The  timid  Zorahayda  said  nothing,  but  threw  her  arms 
round  the  neck  of  Cadiga. 

"Mercy  on  me!"  exclaimed  the  discreet  old  woman;  "what 
are  you  talking  of,  my  children  ?  Your  father  would  be  the 
death  of  us  all,  if  he  heard  of  such  a  thing.  To  be  sure,  these 
cavaliers  are  evidently  well-bred  and  high-minded  youths— but 
what  of  that !  they  are  the  enemies  of  our  faith,  and  you  must 
not  even  think  of  them,  but  with  abhorrence." 

There  is  an  admirable  intrepidity  in  the  female  will,  particu 
larly  about  the  marriageable  age,  which  is  not  to  be  deterred 
by  dangers  and  prohibitions.  The  princesses  hung  round  their 
old  duenna,  and  coaxed  and  entreated,  and  declared  that  a  re 
fusal  would  break  their  hearts.  What  could  she  do?  She  was 
certainly  the  most  discreet  old  woman  in  the  whole  world,  and 
one  of  the  most  faithful  servants  to  the  king— but  was  she  to 
see  three  beautiful  princesses  break  their  hearts  for  the  mere 
tinkling  of  a  guitar?  Beside,  though  she  had  been  so  long 
among  the  Moors,  and  changed  her  faith,  in  imitation  of  her 
mistress,  like  a  trusty  follower,  yet  she  was  a  Spaniard  born, 
and  had  the  lingerings  of  Christianity  in  her  heart.  So  she  set 
about  to  contrive  how  the  wishes  of  the  princesses  might  be 
graufied. 


]•  0  TllK 

The  Christian  captives  confined  in  the  Vermilion  towers, 
were  under  the  charge  of  a  big-whiskered,  broad-shouldered 
renegado,  called  Hussein  Baba,  who  was  reported  to  have  a 
most  itching  palm.  She  went  to  him,  privately,  and  slipping 
a  broad  piece  of  gold  into  his  hand,  "  Hussein  Baba,"  said  she, 
"my  mistresses,  the  three  princesses,  who  are  shut  up  in  the 
.tower,  and  in  sad  want  of  amusement,  have  heard  of  the  musi 
cal  talents  of  the  three  Spanish  cavaliers,  and  are  desirous  of 
hearing  a  specimen  of  their  skill.  I  am  sure  you  are  too  kind- 
hearted  to  refuse  them  so  innocent  a  gratification." 

"  What,  and  to  have  my  head  set  grinning  over  the  gate  of 
my  own  tower — for  that  would  be  the  reward,  if  the  king 
should  discover  it." 

"No  danger  of  any  thing  of  the  kind;  the  affair  may  be 
managed  so  that  the  whim  of  the  princesses  may  be  gratified, 
and  their  father  be  never  the  wiser.  You  know  the  deep  ra 
vine  outside  of  the  walls,  that  passes  immediately  below  the 
tower.  Put  the  three  Christians  to  work  there,  and  at  the  in 
tervals  of  their  labour  let  them  play  and  sing,  as  if  for  their 
own  recreation.  In  this  way,  the  princesses  will  be  able  to  hear 
them  from  the  windows  of  the  tower,  and  you  may  be  sure  of 
their  paying  well  for  your  compliance." 

As  the  good  old  woman  concluded  her  harangue,  she  kindly 
pressed  the  rough  hand  of  the  renegado,  and  left  within  it  an 
other  piece  of  gold. 

Her  eloquence  was  irresistible.  The  very  next  day  the  three 
cavaliers  were  put  to  work  in  the  ravine.  During  the  noon 
tide  heat  when  their  fellow  labourer  were  sleeping  in  the 
shade,  and  the  guard  nodded  drowsily  at  his  post,  they  seated 
themselves  among  the  herbage  at  the  foot  of  the  tower,  and 
sang  a  Spanish  roundelay  to  the  accompaniment  of  the  guitar. 

The  glen  was  deep,  the  tower  was  high,  but  their  voices  rose 
distinctly  in  the  stillness  of  the  summer  noon.  The  princesses 
listened  from  their  balcony ;  they  had  been  taught  the  Spanish 
language  by  their  duenna,  and  were  moved  by  the  tenderness 
of  the  song. 

The  discreet  Cadiga,  on  the  contrary,  was  terribly  shocked. 
"  Allah  preserve  us,"  cried  she,  "they  are  singing  a  love  ditty 
addressed  to  yourselves, — did  ever  mortal  hear  of  such  audac 
ity?  I  will  run  to  the  slave  master  and  have  them  soundly 
bastinadoed." 

"  What,  bastinado  such  gallant  cavaliers,  and  for  singing  so 
Charmingly?"  The  three  beautiful  princesses  were  filled  with 


LEGEND   OF  THE  THREE  UK  A  UTTFUL  PRINCESSES.  101 

horror  at  the  idea.  With  all  her  virtuous  indignation,  the  good 
old  woman  was  of  a  placable  nature  and  onsily  appeased.  Be 
side,  the  music  seemed  to  have  a  'bwiie&cialv effect 'Upon  her 
young  mistresses.  A  rosy  bloom  had  .already,  corno .  to»  their 
cheeks,  and  their  eyes  began  to  sparkle.' .  -She  mad.e-.KO' further 
objection,  therefore,  to  the  amorous  ditty  of  the  cavaliers. 

When  it  was  finished,  the  princesses  remained  silent  for  a 
time;  at  length  Zorayda  took  up  a  lute,  and  with  a  sweet, 
though  faint  and  trembling  voice,  warbled  a  little  Arabian  air, 
the  burden  of  which  was,  "The  rose  is  concealed  among  her 
leaves,  but  she  listens  with  delight  to  the  song  of  the  nightin 
gale." 

From  this  time  forward  the  cavaliers  worked  almost  daily  in 
the  ravine.  The  considerate  Hussein  Baba  became  more  and 
more  indulgent,  and  daily  more  prone  to  sleep  at  his  post. 
For  some  time  a  vague  intercourse  was  kept  up  by  popular 
songs  and  romances ;  which  in  some  measure  responded  to  each 
other,  and  breathed  the  feelings  of  the  parties.  By  degrees 
the  princesses  showed  themselves  at  the  balcony,  when  thc^ 
could  do  so  without  being  perceived  by  the  guards.  They  con 
versed  with  the  cavaliers  also  by  means  of  flowers,  with  the 
.symbolical  language  of  which  they  were  mutually  acquainted : 
the  difficulties  of  their  intercourse  added  to  its  charms,  and 
strengthened  the  passion  they  had  so  singularly  conceived ;  for 
love  delights  to  struggle  with  difficulties,  and  thrives  the  most 
hardily  on  the  scantiest  soil. 

The  change  effected  in  the  looks  and  spirits  of  the  princesses 
by  this  secret  intercourse,  surprised  and  gratified  the  left- 
handed  king;  but  no  one  was  more  elated  than  the  discreet 
Cadiga,  who  considered  it  all  owing  to  her  able  manage 
ment. 

At  length  there  was  an  interruption  in  this  telegraphic  cor 
respondence,  for  several  days  the  cavaliers  ceased  to  make 
their  appearance  in  the  glen.  The  three  beautiful  princesses 
looked  out  from  the  tower  in  vain. — In  vain  they  stretched 
their  swan -like  necks  from  the  balcony;  in  vain  they  sang  like 
captive  nightingales  in  their  cage ;  nothing  was  to  be  seen  of 
their  Christian  lovers,  not  a  note  responded  from  the  groves. 
The  discreet  Cadiga  sallied  forth  in  quest  of  intelligence,  and 
soon  returned  with  a  face  full  of  trouble.  "  Ah,  my  children !" 
cried  she,  ' '  I  saw  what  all  this  would  come  to,  but  you  woul  1 
have  your  way;  you  may  now  hang  up  your  lutes  on  the  v.-:-. 
lows.  The  Spanish  cavaliers  are  ransomed  by  their  families; 


102  THE  ALHAMBRA. 

they  arc  down  in  Granada,  and  preparing  to  return  to  their 
natives  country  v"  . 

The  three  beaUtiM"  princesses  were  in  despair  at  the  tidings 
Th?  £air  Zayda  was  indignant  at  the  slight  put  upon  them,  ic 

'       thus  dese'rted  vfithdut  a  parting  word.    Zoraydu  rung  hei 


hands  and  cried,  and  looked  in  the  glass,  and  wiped  away  her 
teal's,  and  cried  afresh.  The  gentle  Zorahayda  leaned  over  tha 
balcony,  and  wept  in  silence,  and  her  tears  fell  drop  by  drop, 
among  the  flowers  of  the  bank  where  the  faithless  cavaliers 
had  so  often  been  seated. 

The  discreet  Cadiga  did  all  in  her  power  to  soothe  their  sor 
row.  "  Take  comfort,  my  children,"  said  she,  "  this  is  nothing 
when  you  are  used  to  it.  This  is  the  way  of  the  world.  Ah, 
when  you  are  as  old  as  I  am,  you  will  know  how  to  value  these 
men.  I'll  warrant  these  cavaliers  have  their  loves  among  the 
Spanish  beauties  of  Cordova  and  Seville,  and  will  soon  be  sere 
nading  under  their  balconies,  and  thinking  no  more  of  the 
Moorish  beauties  in  the  Alhambra.—  Take  comfort,  therefore, 
my  children,  and  drive  them  from  your  hearts." 

The  comforting  words  of  the  discreet  Cadiga  only  redoubled 
the  distress  of  the  princesses,  and  for  two  days  they  continued 
inconsolable.  On  the  morning  of  the  third,  the  good  old  woman 
entered  their  apartment  all  ruffling  with  indignation. 

"Who  would  have  believed  such  insolence  in  mortal  man?" 
exclaimed  she,  as  soon  as  she  could  find  words  to  express  her 
self;  "but  I  am  rightly  served  for  having  connived  at  this  de 
ception  of  your  worthy  father  —  never  talk  more  to  me  of  your 
Spanish  cavaliers." 

"Why,  what  has  happened,  good  Cadiga?"  exclaimed  the 
princesses,  in  breathless  anxiety. 

"What  has  happened?  treason  has  happened!  —  or  what  is 
almost  as  bad,  treason  has  been  proposed  —  and  to  me  —  the 
(  aithfulest  of  subjects—  the  trustiest  ot  iuennas—  yes,  my  chil 
dren—the  Spanish  cavaliers  have  dared  to  tamper  with  me; 
that  I  should  persuade  you  to  fly  with  them  to  Cordova,  and 
become  their  wives." 

Hero  the  excellent  old  woman  covered  her  face  with  hei 
hands,  and  gave  way  to  a  violent  burst  of  grief  and  indigna 
tion. 

The  three  beautiful  princesses  turned  pale  and  red.  and  trem 
bled,  and  looked  down  ;  and  cast  shy  looks  at  each  other,  but 
said  nothing:  meantime,  the  old  woman  sat  rocking  backward 
and  forward  in  violent  agitation,  and  now  and  then  breaking 


LEGEND  OF  THE  THREE  BEAUTIFUL  PRINCESSES.  103 

out  into  exclamations-- "That  ever  I  should  live  to  be  so  in 
sulted — I,  the  faithfulest  of  servants !" 

At  length  the  eldest  princess,  who  had  most  spirit,  and  always 
took  the  lead,  approached  her,  and  /aying  her  hand  upon  her 
shoulder— "Well,  mother,"  said  she,  "supposing  we  were  will 
ing  to  fly  with  these  Christian  cavaliers — is  such  a  thing  pos- 
sible?" 

The  good  old  woman  paused  suddenly  in  her  grief,  and  look 
ing  up— "Possible!"  echoed  she,  "to  be  sure  it  is  possible. 
Have  not  the  cavaliers  already  bribed  Hussein  Baba,  the  rene- 
gado  captain  of  the  guard,  and  arranged  the  whole  plan?— But 
then  to  think  of  deceiving  your  father — your  father,  who  haa 
placed  such  confidence  in  me?" 

Here  the  worthy  old  woman  gave  way  to  a  fresh  burst  of 
grief,  and  began  again  to  rock  backwards  and  forwards,  and  to 
wring  her  hands. 

"But  our  father  has  never  placed  any  confidence  in  us,"  said 
the  eldest  princess;  "but  has  trusted  to  bolts  and  bars,  an<? 
treated  us  as  captives." 

"Why,  that  is  true  enough,"  replied  the  old  woman,  again 
pausing  in  her  grief — "He  has  indeed  treated  you  most  unrea 
sonably.  Keeping  you  shut  up  here  to  waste  your  bloom  in  a 
moping  old  tower,  like  roses  left  to  wither  in  a  flower  jar.  But 
then  to  fly  from  your  native  land." 

'  'And  is  not  the  land  we  fly  to,  the  native  land  of  our  mother : 
where  we  shall  live  in  freedom  ? — and  shall  we  not  each  have  » 
youthful  husband  in  exchange  for  a  severe  old  father?" 

"Why,  that  again  is  all  very  true— and  your  father,  I  must 
confess,  is  rather  tyrannical. — But  what  then" — relapsing  into 
her  grief — "would  you  leave  me  behind  to  bear  the  brunt  of 
his  vengeance?" 

"By  no  means,  my  good  Cadiga.    Cannot  you  fly  with  us?" 

"Very  true,  my  child,  and  to  tell  the  truth,  when  1  talked 
the  matter  over  with  Hussein  Baba,  he  promised  to  take  care 
of  me  if  I  would  accompany  you  in  your  flight :  but  then,  be 
think  you,  my  children ;  are  you  willing  to  renounce  the  faith 
of  your  father?" 

"The  Christian  faith  was  the  original  faith  of  our  mother,' 
said  the  eldest  princess ;  "I  am  ready  to  embrace  it ;  and  so  1 
am  sure  are  my  sisters." 

"Right  again!"  exclaimed  the  old  woman,  brightening  up. 
"It  was  the  original  faith  of  your  mother;  and  bitterly  did  she 
lament,  on  her  death-bed,  that  she  had  renounced  it.  I  pron> 


104  THE  ALHAMBRA. 

Ised  her  then  to  take  care  of  your  souls,  and  I  am  rejoiced  to 
see  that  they  are  now  in  a  fair  way  to  be  saved.  Yes,  my  chil 
dren;  I  too  was  born  a  Christian — and  have  always  been  a 
Christian  in  my  heart;  and  am  resolved  to  return  to  the  faith. 
I  have  talked  on  the  subject  with  Hussein  Baba,  who  is  a  Span 
iard  by  birth,  and  comes  from  a  place  not  far  from  my  native 
town.  He  is  equally  anxious  to  see  his  own  country  and  to  be 
reconciled  to  the  church,  and  the  cavaliers  have  promised  that 
if  we  are  disposed  to  become  man  and  wife  on  returning  to  our 
native  land,  they  will  provide  for  uo  handsomely." 

In  a  word,  it  appeared  that  this  extremely  discreet  and  provi 
dent  old  woman  had  consulted  with  the  cavaliers  and  the  rene- 
gado,  and  had  concerted  the  whole  plan  of  escape.  The  eldest 
princess  immediately  assented  to  it,  and  her  example  as  usual 
determined  the  conduct  of  her  sisters.  It  is  true,  the  youngest 
hesitated,  for  she  was  gentle  and  timid  of  soul,  and  there  was 
a  struggle  in  her  bosom  between  filial  feeling  and  youthful 
passion.  The  latter  however,  as  usual,  gained  the  victory,  and 
with  silent  tears  and  stifled  sighs  she  prepared  herself  for 
flight. 

The  rugged  hill  on  which  the  Alhambra  is  built  was  in  old 
times  perforated  with  subterranean  passages,  cut  through  the 
rock,  and  leading  from  the  fortress  to  various  parts  of  the  city, 
and  to  distant  sally-ports  on  the  banks  of  the  Darro  and  the 
Xenil.  They  had  been  constructed  at  different  times,  by  the 
Moorish  kings,  as  means  of  escape  from  sudden  insurrection,  or 
of  secretly  issuing  forth  on  private  enterprises.  Many  of  them 
are  now  entirely  lost,  while  others  remain,  partly  choked  up 
with  rubbish,  and  partly  walled  up — monuments  of  the  jealous 
precautions  and  warlike  stratagems  of  the  Moorish  government. 
By  one  of  these  passages,  Hussein  Baba  had  undertaken  to 
conduct  the  princesses  to  a  sally-port  beyond  the  walls  of  the 
city,  where  the  cavaliers  were  to  be  ready  with  fleet  steeds  to 
bear  them  all  over  the  borders. 

The  appointed  night  arrived.  The  tower  of  the  princesses 
had  been  locked  up  as  usual,  and  the  Alhambra  was  buried  in 
deep  sleep.  Towards  midnight  the  discreet  Cadiga  listened 
from  a  balcony  of  a  window  that  looked  into  the  garden, 
Hussein  Baba,  the  renegade,  was  already  below,  and  gave  the 
appointed  signal.  The  duenna  fastened  the  end  of  a  ladder  of 
ropes  to  the  balcony,  lowered  it  into  the  garden,  and  descended. 
The  two  eldest  princesses  f oDowed  her  with  beating  hearts ;  but 
when  it  came  to  the  turn  of  the  youngest  princess,  Zorahayda, 


LEGEND   OF  THE  THREE  BEAUTIFUL  PRINCESSES.  1Q5 

she  hesitated  and  trembled.  Several  times  she  ventured  a  deli 
cate  little  foot  upon  the  ladder,  and  as  often  drew  it  back; 
while  her  poor  little  heart  fluttered  more  and  more  the  longer 
she  delayed.  She  cast  a  wistful  look  back  into  the  silken  cham 
ber  ;  she  had  lived  in  it,  to  be  sure,  like  a  bird  in  a  cage,  but 
within  it  she  was  secure — who  could  not  tell  what  dangers 
might  beset  her  should  she  flutter  forth  into  the  wide  world  \ 
Now  she  bethought  her  of  her  gallant  Christian  lover,  and  her 
little  foot  was  instantly  upon  the  ladder,  and  anon  she  thought 
of  her  father,  and  shrunk  back.  But  fruitless  is  the  attempt  to 
describe  the  conflict  in  the  bosom  of  one  so  young,  and  tender, 
and  loving,  but  so  timid  and  so  ignorant  of  the  world.  In  vain 
her  sisters  implored,  the  duenna  scolded,  and  the  renegado 
blasphemed  beneath  the  balcony.  The  gentle  little  Moorish 
maid  stood  doubting  and  wavering  on  the  verge  of  elopement ; 
tempted  by  the  sweetness  of  the  sin,  but  terrified  at  its  perils. 

Every  moment  increased  the  danger  of  discovery.  A  distant 
tramp  was  heard. — "The  patrols  are  walking  the  rounds,"  cried 
the  renegado;  "if  we  linger  longer  we  perish— princess,  de 
scend  instantly,  or  we  leave  you. " 

Zorahayda  was  for  a  moment  in  fearful  agitation,  then  loos 
ening  the  ladder  of  ropes,  with  desperate  resolution  she  flung 
it  from  the  balcony. 

"It  is  decided, " cried  she,  "flight  is  now  out  of  my  power  1— 
Allah  guide  and  bless  ye,  my  dear  sisters  1" 

The  two  eldest  princesses  were  shocked  at  the  thoughts  of 
leaving  her  behind,  and  would  fain  have  lingered,  but  the 
patrol  was  advancing;  the  renegado  was  furious,  and  they 
were  hurried  away  to  the  subterraneous  passage.  They  groped 
their  way  through  a  fearful  labyrinth  cut  through  the  heart  of 
the  mountain,  and  succeeded  in  reaching,  undiscovered,  an 
iron  gate  that  opened  outside  of  the  walls.  The  Spanish  cav 
aliers  were  waiting  to  receive  them,  disguised  as  Moorish  sol 
diers  of  the  guard  commanded  by  the  renegado. 

The  lover  of  Zorahayda  was  frantic  when  he  learned  that  she 
had  refused  to  leave  the  tower ;  but  there  was  no  time  to  waste 
in  lamentations.  The  two  princesses  were  placed  behind  their 
lovers ;  the  discreet  Cadiga  mounted  behind  the  renegado,  and 
all  set  off  at  a  round  pace  in  the  direction  of  the  pass  of  Lope, 
which  leads  through  the  mountains  towards  Cordova. 

They  had  not  proceeded  far  when  they  heard  the  noise  of 
drums  and  trumpets  from  the  battlements  of  the  Alhambra. 
u Our  flight  is  discovered,"  said  the  renegado.  "We  have  fleet 


106  THE  ALHAMBRA. 

steeds,  the  night  is  dark,  and  we  may  distance  all  pursuit,1 
replied  the  cavaliers. 

They  put  spurs  to  their  horses  and  scoured  across  the  Vega. 
They  attained  to  the  foot  of  the  mountain  of  Elvira,  which 
stretches  like  a  promontory  into  the  plain.  The  renegado 
paused  and  listened.  "As  yet,"  said  he,  "  there  is  no  one  on 
our  traces,  we  shall  make  good  our  escape  to  the  mountains.1' 
While  he  spoke  a  ball  of  fire  sprang  up  in  a  light  blaze  on  the 
top  of  the  watch-tower  of  the  Alhambra. 

"  Confusion!"  cried  the  renegado,  "that  fire  will  put  all  the 
guards  of  the  passes  on  the  alert.  Away,  away,  spur  like  mad ; 
there  is  no  time  to  be  lost. " 

Away  they  dashed — the  clattering  of  their  horses'  hoofs 
echoed  from  rock  to  rock  as  they  swept  along  the  road  that 
skirts  the  rocky  mountain  of  Elvira.  As  they  galloped  on, 
they  beheld  that  the  ball  of  fire  of  the  Alhambra  was  answered 
in  every  direction;  light  after  light  blazed  on  the  atalayas  or 
watch-towers  of  the  mountains. 

"Forward!  forward!"  cried  the  renegado,  with  many  an 
oath — "to  the  bridge! — to  the  bridge!  before  the  alarm  has 
reached  there." 

They  doubled  the  promontory  of  the  mountain,  and  arrived 
in  sight  of  the  famous  Puente  del  Pinos,  that  crosses  a  rushing 
stream  often  dyed  with  Christian  and  Moslem  blood.  To  their 
confusion  the  tower  on  the  bridge  blazed  with  lights  and  glit 
tered  with  armed  men.  The  renegado  pulled  up  his  steed,  rose 
in  his  stirrups  and  looked  about  him  for  a  moment,  then  beck 
oning  to  the  cavaliers  he  struck  off  from  the  road,  skirted  the 
river  for  some  distance,  and  dashed  into  its  waters.  The  cav 
aliers  called  upon  the  princesses  to  cling  to  them,  and  did  the 
same.  They  were  borne  for  some  distance  down  the  rapid 
current,  the  surges  roared  round  them,  but  the  beautiful  prin 
cesses  clung  to  their  Christian  knights  and  never  uttered  a 
complaint.  The  cavaliers  attained  the  opposite  bank  in  safety, 
and  were  conducted  by  the  renegado,  by  rude  and  unfre 
quented  paths,  and  wild  barrancos  through  the  heart  of  the 
mountains,  so  as  to  avoid  all  the  regular  passes.  In  a  word, 
they  succeeded  in  reaching  the  ancient  city  of  Cordova ;  when 
their  restoration  to  their  country  and  friends  was  celebrated 
with  great  rejoicings,  for  they  were  of  the  noblest  families. 
The  beautiful  princesses  were  forthwith  received  into  the 
bosom  of  the  church,  and  after  being  in  all  due  form  made 
regular  Christians,  were  rendered  happy  lovers. 


LEGEND  OF  THE  THREE  BEAUTIFUL  PRINCESSES.  107 

In  our  hurry  to  make  good  the  escape  of  the  princesses 
across  the  river  and  up  the  mountains,  we  forgot  to  mention 
the  fate  of  the  discreet  Cadiga.  She  had  clung  like  a  cat  to 
Hussein  Baba,  in  the  scamper  across  the  Vega,  screaming  at 
every  bound  and  drawing  many  an  oath  from  the  whiskered 
renegade ;  but  when  he  prepared  to  plunge  his  steed  into  the 
river  her  terror  knew  no  bounds. 

"Grasp  me  not  so  tightly, "cried  Hussein  Baba;  "hold  on  by 
my  belt,  and  fear  nothing." 

She  held  firmly  with  both  hands  by  the  leathern  belt  that 
girded  the  broad-backed  renegado ;  but  when  he  halted  with 
the  cavaliers  to  take  breath  on  the  mountain  summit,  the 
duenna  was  no  longer  to  be  seen. 

"What  has  become  of  Cadiga?"  cried  the  princesses  in 
alarm. 

"I  know  not,"  replied  the  renegado.  "My  belt  came  loose 
in  the  midst  of  the  river,  and  Cadiga  was  swept  with  it  down 
the  stream.  The  will  of  Allah  be  done! — but  it  was  an  em 
broidered  belt  and  of  great  price !" 

There  was  no  time  to  waste  in  idle  reports,  yet  bitterly  did 
the  princesses  bewail  the  loss  of  their  faithful  and  .discreet 
counsellor.  That  excellent  old  woman,  however,  did  not  lose 
more  than  half  of  her  nine  lives  in  the  stream. — A  fisherman 
who  was  drawing  his  nets  some  distance  down  the  stream, 
brought  her  to  land  and  was  not  a  little  astonished  at  his 
miraculous  draught.  What  farther  became  of  the  discreet 
Cadiga,  the  legend  does  not  mention. — Certain  it  is,  that  she 
evinced  her  discretion  in  never  venturing  within  the  reach  of 
Mohamed  the  left-handed. 

Almost  as  little  is  known  of  the  conduct  of  that  sagacious 
monarch,  when  he  discovered  the  escape  of  his  daughters  and 
the  deceit  practised  upon  him  by  the  most  faithful  of  servants. 
It  was  the  only  instance  in  which  he  had  called  in  the  aid  of 
counsel,  and  he  was  never  afterwards  known  to  be  guilty  of  a 
similar  weakness.  He  took  good  care,  however,  to  guard  his 
remaining  daughter;  who  had  no  disposition  to  elope.  It  is 
thought,  indeed,  that  she  secretly  repented  having  remained 
behind.  Now  and  then  she  was  seen  leaning  on  the  battle 
ments  of  the  tower  and  looking  mournfully  towards  the  moun 
tains,  in  the  direction  of  Cordova ;  and  sometimes  the  notes  of 
ier  lute  were  heard  accompanying  plaintive  ditties,  in  which 
she  was  said  to  lament  the  loss  of  her  sisters  and  her  lover,  and 
to  bewail  her  solitary  life.  She  died  young,  and,  according  to 


108  THE  ALHAMBRA. 

popular  rumour,  was  buried  in  a  vault  beneath  the  tower,  and 
her  untimely  fate  has  given  rise  to  more  than  one  traditionary 
fable. 

LOCAL  TRADITIONS. 

THE  common  people  of  Spain  have  an  oriental  passion  foi 
story -telling  and  are  fond  of  the  marvellous.  They  will  gather 
round  the  doors  of  their  cottages  on  summer  evenings,  or  in 
the  great  cavernous  chimney  corners  of  their  ventas  in  the 
winter,  and  listen  with  insatiable  delight  to  miraculous  legends 
of  saints,  perilous  adventures  of  travellers,  and  daring  exploits 
of  robbers  and  contrabandistas.  The  wild  and  solitary  natur« 
of  a  great  part  of  Spain;  the  imperfect  state  of  knowledge; 
the  scantiness  of  general  topics  of  conversation,  and  the  ro 
mantic,  adventurous  life  that  every  one  leads  hi  a  land  where 
travelling  is  yet  in  its  primitive  state,  all  contribute  to  cherish 
this  love  of  oral  narration,  and  to  produce  a  strong  expression 
of  the  extravagant  and  wonderful.  There  is  no  theme,  how 
ever,  more  prevalent  or  popular  than  that  of  treasures  buried 
by  the  Moors.  It  pervades  the  whole  country.  In  traversing 
the  wild  Sierras,  the  scenes  of  ancient  prey  and  exploit,  you 
cannot  see  a  Moorish  atalaya  or  watch-tower  perched  among 
the  cliffs,  or  beetling  above  its  rock-built  village,  but  your 
muleteer,  on  being  closely  questioned,  will  suspend  the  smok 
ing  of  his  cigarillo  to  tell  some  tale  of  Moslem  gold  buried  be 
neath  its  foundations ;  nor  is  there  a  ruined  alcazar  in  a  city, 
but  has  its  golden  tradition,  handed  down,  from  generation  to 
generation,  among  the  poor  people  of  the  neighbourhood. 

These,  like  most  popular  fictions,  have  had  some  ground 
work  in  fact.  During  the  wars  between  Moor  and  Christian, 
which  distracted  the  country  for  centuries,  towns  and  castles 
were  liable  frequently  and  suddenly  to  change  owners ;  and  the 
inhabitants,  during  sieges  and  assaults,  were  fain  to  bury  their 
money  and  jewels  in  the  earth,  or  hide  them  in  vaults  and  wells, 
as  is  often  done  at  the  present  day  in  the  despotic  and  belliger 
ent  countries  of  the  East.  At  the  time  of  the  expulsion  of  the 
Moors,  also,  many  of  them  concealed  their  most  precious 
offsets,  hoping  that  their  exile  would  be  but  temporary,  and 
that  they  would  be  enabled  to  return  and  retrieve  their  treas 
ures  at  some  future  day.  It  is  certain  that,  from  time  to 
time,  hoards  of  gold  and  silver  coin  have  been  accidentally 
digged  up,  after  a  lapse  of  centuries,  from  among  the  ruins 


LEGEND  OF  THE  MOORb  LEGAOf       109 

of  Moorish  fortresses  and  habitations,  and  it  requires  but  a 
few  facts  of  the  kind  to  give  birth  to  a  thousand  fictions. 

The  stories  thus  originating  have  generally  something  of  an 
oriental  tinge,  and  are  marked  with  that  mixture  of  the  Arabic 
and  Gothic  which  seems  to  me  to  characterize  everything  in 
Spain ;  and  especially  in  its  southern  provinces.  The  hidden 
wealth  is  always  laid  under  magic  spell,  and  secured  by  charm 
and  talisman.  Sometimes  it  is  guarded  by  uncouth  monsters, 
or  fiery  dragons ;  sometimes  by  enchanted  Moors,  who  sit  by  it 
in  armour,  with  drawn  swords,  but  motionless  as  statues, 
maintaining  a  sleepless  watch  for  ages. 

The  Alhambra,  of  course,  from  the  peculiar  circumstances  of 
its  history,  is  a  strong  hold  for  popular  fictions  of  the  kind, 
and  curious  reliques,  dug  up  from  time  to  tune,  have  contrib 
uted  to  strengthen  them.  At  one  tune,  an  earthen  vessel  was 
found,  containing  Moorish  coins  and  the  skeleton  of  a  cock, 
which,  according  to  the  opinion  of  shrewd  inspectors,  must 
tave  been  buried  alive.  At  another  time,  a  vessel  was  digged 
up,  containing  a  great  scarabseus,  or  beetle,  of  baked  clay,  cov 
ered  with  Arabic  inscriptions,  which  was  pronounced  a  pro 
digious  amulet  of  occult  virtues.  In  this  way  the  wits  of  the 
ragged  brood  who  inhabit  the  Alhambra  have  been  set  wool 
gathering,  until  there  is  not  a  hall,  or  tower,  or  vault,  of  the 
old  fortress  that  has  not  been  made  the  scene  of  some  marvel 
lous  tradition. 

I  have  already  given  brief  notices  of  some  related  to  me  by 
the  authentic  Mateo  Ximenes,  and  now  subjoin  one  wrought 
out  from  various  particulars  gathered  among  the  gossips  of  the 
fortress. 


LEGEND  OF  THE  MOOE'S  LEGACY. 

JUBT  within  the  fortress  of  IJie  Alhambra,  in  front  of  the 
royal  palace,  is  a  broad  open  esplanade,  called  the  place  or 
square  of  the  cisterns,  (la,  plaza  de  los  algibes,)  so  called  from 
being  undermined  by  reservoirs  of  water,  hidden  from  sight, 
&nd  which  have  existed  from  the  time  of  the  Moors.  At  one 
corner  of  this  esplanade  is  a  Moorish  well,  cut  through  the  liv 
ing  rock  to  a  great  depth,  the  water  of  which  is  cold  as  ice  and 
clear  as  crystal.  The  wells  made  by  the  Moors  are  always  in 


110  TEE  ALHAMBRA. 

repute,  for  it  is  well  known  what  pains  they  took  to  penetratt 
to  the  purest  and  sweetest  springs  and  fountains.  The  one  we 
are  speaking  of  is  famous  throughout  Granada,  insomuch  that 
the  water-carriers,  some  bearing  great  water-jars  on  thcil 
shoulders,  others  driving  asses  before  them,  laden  with  earthen 
vessels,  are  ascending  and  descending  the  steep  woody  avenues 
of  the  Alhambra  from  early  dawn  until  a  late  hour  of  the  night. 

Fountains  and  wells,  ever  since  the  scriptural  days,  have 
been  noted  gossiping  places  in  hot  climates,  and  at  the  well  in 
question  there  is  a  kind  of  perpetual  club  kept  up  during  the 
live-long  day,  by  the  invalids,  old  women,  and  other  curious, 
do-nothing  folk  of  the  fortress,  who  sit  here  on  the  stone 
benches  under  an  awning  spread  over  the  well  to  shelter  the 
toll-gatherer  from  the  sun,  and  dawdle  over  tho  gossip  of  the 
fortress,  and  question  any  water-carrier  that  arrives  about  the 
news  of  the  city,  and  make  loag  comments  on  everything  they 
aear  and  see.  Not  an  hour  of  tne  day  but  loitering  housewives 
and  idle  maid-servants  may  oe  seen,  lingering  with  pitcher  on 
head  or  in  hand,  to  hear  the  Aast  of  the  endless  tattle  of  these 
worthies. 

Among  the  water-carriers  who  once  resorted  to  this  well 
there  was  a  sturdy,  strong-backed,  bandy-legged  little  fellow, 
named  Pedro  Gil,  but  called  Peregil  for  shortness.  Being  a 
water-carrier,  he  was  a  Gallego,  or  native  of  Gallicia,  of 
course.  Nature  seems  to  have  formed  races  of  men  as  she  has 
of  animals  for  different  kinds  of  drudgery.  In  France  the  shoe 
blacks  are  all  Savoyards,  the  porters  of  hotels  all  Swiss,  and  in 
the  days  of  hoops  and  hair  powder  in  England,  no  man  could 
give  the  regular  swing  to  a  sedan  chair,  but  a  bog-trotting 
Irishman.  So  in  Spain  the  carriers  of  water  and  bearers  of 
burdens  are  all  sturdy  little  natives  of  Galhcia.  No  man  says, 
"  get  me  a  porter,"  but,  "  call  a  Gallego." 

To  return  from  this  digression.  Peregil  the  Gallego  had 
begun  business  with  merely  a  great  earthen  jar,  which  he  car 
ried  upon  his  shoulder ;  by  degrees  he  rose  in  the  world,  and 
was  enabled  to  purchase  an  assistant  of  a  correspondent  class 
of  animals,  being  a  stout  shaggy-haired  donkey.  On  each  side 
of  this  his  long-eared  aid-de-camp,  in  a  kind  of  pannier,  were 
slung  his  water-jars  covered  with  fig  leaves  to  protect  them  from 
the  sun.  There  was  not  a  more  industrious  water-carrier  in  all 
Granada,  nor  one  more  merry  withal.  The  streets  rang  with  his 
cheerful  voice  as  he  trudgea  after  his  donkey,  singing  forth  the 
usual  summer  note  that  resounds  through  the  Spanish  towns; 


LEGEND  OF  THE  MOOS' if  ZEGACY.  Ill 

"  quien  quiere  agua — agua  mas  fria  que  la  nieve. — Who  wants 
water — water  colder  than  snow — who  wants  water  from  the 
well  of  the  Alhambra — cold  as  ice  and  clear  as  crystal  ?  "  When 
he  served  a  customer  with  a  sparkling  glass,  it  was  always 
with  a  pleasant  word  that  caused  a  smile,  and  if,  perchance,  it 
was  a  comely  dame,  or  dimpling  damsel,  it  was  always  with  a 
sly  leer  and  a  compliment  to  her  beauty  that  was  irresistible. 
Thus  Peregil  the  Gallego  was  noted  throughout  all  Granada  for 
being  one  of  the  civilest,  pleasantest,  and  happiest  of  mortals. 
Yet  it  is  not  he  who  sings  loudest  and  jokes  most  that  has  the 
lightest  heart.  Under  all  this  air  of  merriment,  honest  Peregil 
had  his  cares  and  troubles.  He  had  a  large  family  of  ragged 
children  to  support,  who  were  hungry  and  clamorous  as  a 
nest  of  young  swallows,  and  beset  him  with  their  outcries  for 
food  whenever  he  came  home  of  an  evening.  He  had  a  help 
mate  too  who  was  anything  but  a  help  to  him.  She  had  been 
a  village  beauty  before  marriage,  noted  for  her  skill  in  dancing 
the  bolero  and  rattling  the  castanets,  and  she  still  retained  her 
early  propensities,  spending  the  hard  earnings  of  honest  Pere 
gil  in  frippery,  and  laying  the  very  donkey  under  requisition 
for  junketing  parties  into  the  country  on  Sundays,  and  saints' 
days,  and  those  innumerable  holydays  which  are  rather  more 
numerous  in  Spain  than  the  days  of  the  week.  With  all  this 
she  was  a  little  of  a  slattern,  something  more  of  a  lie-a-bed, 
and,  above  all,  a  gossip  of  the  first  water  ;  neglecting  house, 
household  and  everything  else,  to  loiter  slip-shod  in  the  houses 
of  her  gossip  neighbours. 

He,  however,  who  tempers  the  wind  to  the  shorn  lamb, 
accommodates  the  yoke  of  matrimony  to  the  submissive  neck. 
Peregil  bore  all  the  heavy  dispensations  of  wife  and  children 
with  as  meek  a  spirit  as  his  donkey  bore  the  water-jars  ;  and, 
however  he  might  shake  his  ears  in  private,  never  ventured  to 
question  the  household  virtues  of  his  slattern  spouse. 

He  loved  his  children  too,  even  as  an  owl  loves  its  owlets, 
seeing  in  them  his  own  image  multiplied  and  perpetuated,  for 
they  were  a  sturdy,  long-backed,  bandy-legged  little  brood. 
The  great  pleasure  of  honest  Peregil  was,  whenever  he  could 
afford  himself  a  scanty  holyday  and  had  a  handful  of  marave- 
dies  to  spare,  to  take  the  whole  litter  forth  with  him,  some  in 
his  arms,  some  tugging  at  his  skirts,  and  some  trudging  at  his 
heels,  and  to  treat  them  to  a  gambol  among  the  orchards  of  the 
Vega,  while  his  wife  was  dancing  with  her  holyday  friends  in 
the  Angosturas  of  the  Darro. 


THE  AL1IAMB3A. 

It  was  a  late  hour  one  summer  night,  and  most  of  the  water 
carriers  had  desisted  from  their  toils.  The  day  had  been  ua 
commonly  sultry;  the  night  was  one  of  those  delicious  moon 
lights,  which  tempt  the  inhabitants  of  those  southern  climes  to 
indemnify  themselves  for  the  heat  and  inaction  of  the  day,  by 
lingering  in  the  open  air  and  enjoying  its  tempered  sweetness 
Until  after  midnight.  Customers  for  water  were  therefore 
still  abroad.  Peregil,  like  a  considerate,  painstaking  little 
father,  thought  of  his  hungry  children.  "One  more  journey 
to  the  well,"  said  he  to  himself,  "to  earn  a  good  Sunday's 
puchcro  for  the  little  ones."  So  saying,  he  trudged  rapidly  up 
the  steep  avenue  of  the  Alhambra,  singing  as  he  went,  and 
now  and  then  bestowing  a  hearty  thwack  with  a  cudgel  on 
the  flanks  of  his  donkey,  either  by  way  of  cadence  to  the  song, 
or  refreshment  to  the  animal ;  for  dry  blows  serve  in  lieu  for 
provender  hi  Spain,  for  all  beasts  of  burden. 

When  arrived  at  the  well,  he  found  it  deserted  by  every  one 
except  a  solitary  stranger  in  Moorish  garb,  seated  on  the  stone 
bench  in  the  moonlight.  Peregil  paused  at  first,  and  regarded 
him  with  surprise,  not  unmixed  with  awe,  but  the  Moor  feebly 
beckoned  him  to  approach. 

"I  am  faint  and  ill,"  said  he;  "aid  me  to  return  to  the  city, 
and  I  will  pay  thee  double  what  thou  couldst  gain  by  thy  jars 
of  water." 

The  honest  heart  of  the  little  water-carrier  was  touched  with 
compassion  at  the  appeal  of  the  stranger.  "God  forbid,"  said 
he,  "  that  I  should  ask  fee  or  reward  for  doing  a  common  act 
of  humanity." 

He  accordingly  helped  the  Moor  on  his  donkey,  and  set  off 
slowly  for  Granada,  the  poor  Moslem  being  so  weak  that  it 
was  necessary  to  hold  him  on  the  animal  to  keep  him  from 
falling  to  the  earth. 

When  they  entered  the  city,  the  water-carrier  demanded 
whither  he  should  conduct  him.  "Alas!"  said  the  Moor, 
faintly,  "  I  have  neither  home  nor  habitation.  I  am  a  stranger 
in  the  land.  Suffer  me  to  lay  my  head  this  night  beneath  thy 
roof,  and  thou  shall  be  amply  repaid. " 

Honest  Peregil  thus  saw  himself  unexpectedly  saddled  with 
an  infidel  guest,  but  he  was  too  humane  to  refuse  a  night'a 
shelter  to  a  fellow  being  in  so  forlorn  a  plight ;  so  he  conducted 
the  Moor  to  his  dwelling.  The  children,  who  had  sallied  forth, 
open-mouthed  as  usual,  on  hearing  the  tramp  of  the  donkey, 
Tan  back  with  affright;  when  they  beheld  the  turbaned 


LEGEND  OF  THE  MOOR'S  LEGACY. 

Stranger,  and  hid  themselves  behind  their  mother.  The  lattei 
stepped  forth  intrepidly,  like  a  ruffling  hen  before  her  brood, 
when  a  vagrant  dog  approaches. 

"What  infidel  companion,"  cried  she,  "is  this  you  have 
brought  home  at  this  late  hour,  to  draw  upon  us  the  eyes  of 
the  Inquisition?" 

"Be  quiet,  wife,"  replied  the  Gallego,  "here  is  a  poor  sick 
stranger,  without  friend  or  home:  wouldst  thou  turn  him  forth 
to  perish  in  the  streets?" 

The  wife  would  still  have  remonstrated,  for,  though  she 
lived  in  a  hovel,  she  was  a  furious  stickler  for  the  credit  of  her 
house;  the  little  water-carrier,  however,  for  once  was  stiff- 
necked,  and  refused  to  bend  beneath  the  yoke.  He  assisted 
the  poor  Moslem  to  alight,  and  spread  a  mat  and  a  sheepskin 
for  him,  on  the  ground,  in  the  coolest  part  of  the  house ;  being 
the  only  kind  of  bed  that  his  poverty  afforded. 

In  a  little  while  the  Moor  was  seized  with  violent  convul 
sions,  which  defied  all  the  ministering  skill  of  the  simple 
water-carrier.  The  eye  of  the  poor  patient  acknowledged  his 
kindness.  During  an  interval  of  his  fits  he  called  him  to  his 
bide,  and  addressing  him  in  alow  voice;  "My  end,"  said  he. 
"I  fear  is  at  hand.  If  I  die  I  bequeath  you  this  box  as  a  re 
ward  for  your  charity."  So  saying,  he  opened  his  albornoz,  or 
cloak,  and  showed  a  small  box  of  sandal  wood,  strapped  round 
his  body. 

"God  grant,  my  friend,"  replied  the  worthy  little  Gallego, 
"  that  you  may  live  many  years  to  enjoy  your  treasure,  what 
ever  it  may  be." 

The  Moor  shook  his  head ;  he  laid  his  hand  upon  the  box, 
and  would  have  said  something  more  concerning  it,  but  his 
convulsions  returned  with  increased  violence,  and  in  a  little 
Trtnle  he  expired. 

Ths  water-carrier's  wife  was  now  as  one  distracted.  "  This 
comes,"  said  she,  "of  your  foolish  good  nature,  always  run 
ning  into  scrapes  to  oblige  others.  Wkat  will  become  of  us 
when  this  corpse  is  found  in  our  house?  We  shall  be  sent  to 
prison  as  murderers ;  and  if  we  escape  with  our  li ves,  shall  be 
ruined  by  notaries  and  alguazils. "  o^\^&-^JL\ 

Poor  Peregil  was  in  equal  tribulation,  and  almost  repented 
himself  of  having  done  a  good  deed.  At  length  a  thought 
struck  him.  " It  is  not  yet  day,"  said  he.  "I  can  convey  the 
dead  body  out  of  the  city  and  bury  it  in  the  sands  on  the  banks 
of  the  Xenil.  No  one  saw  the  Moor  enter  our  dwelling,  and  no 


114  TEE  ALHAMBRA. 

one  will  know  any  thing  of  his  death."  So  said,  so  done.  Th« 
wife  aided  him :  they  rolled  the  body  of  the  unfortunate  Mos 
lem  in  the  mat  on  which  he  had  expired,  laid  it  across  the  ass, 
and  Mattias  set  out  with  it  for  the  banks  of  the  river. 

As  ill  luck  would  have  it,  there  lived  opposite  to  the  water- 
carrier  a  barber,  named  Pedrillo  Pedrugo,  one  of  the  most 
prying,  tattling,  mischief -making,  of  his  gossip  tribe.  He  was 
a  weasel-faced,  spider-legged  varlet,  supple  and  insinuating; 
the  famous  Barber  of  Seville  could  not  surpass  him  for  his  uni 
versal  knowledge  of  the  affairs  of  others,  and  he  had  no  more 
power  of  retention  than  a  sieve.  It  was  said  that  he  slept  with 
but  one  eye  at  a  time,  and  kept  one  ear  uncovered,  so  that, 
even  in  his  sleep,  he  might  see  and  hear  all  that  was  going  on. 
Certain  it  is,  he  was  a  sort  of  scandalous  chronicle  for  the 
quidnuncs  of  Granada,  and  had  more  customers  than  all  the 
rest  of  his  fraternity. 

This  meddlesome  barber  heard  Peregil  arrive  at  an  unusual 
hour  of  night,  and  the  exclamations  of  his  wife  and  children. 
His  head  was  instantly  popped  out  of  a  little  window  which 
served  him  as  a  lookout,  and  he  saw  his  neighbour  assist  a  man 
in  a  Moorish  garb  into  his  dwelling.  This  was  so  strange  an 
occurrence  that  Pedrillo  Pedrugo  slept  not  a  wink  that  night— 
every  five  minutes  he  was  at  his  loop-hole,  watching  the  lights 
that  gleamed  through  the  chinks  of  his  neighbour's  door,  and 
before  daylight  he  beheld  Peregil  sally  forth  with  his  donkey 
unusually  laden. 

The  inquisitive  barber  was  in  a  fidget;  he  slipped  on  his 
clothes,  and,  stealing  forth  silently,  followed  the  water-carrier 
at  a  distance,  until  he  saw  him  dig  a  hole  in  the  sandy  bank 
of  the  Xenil,  and  bury  something  that  had  the  appearance  of 
a  dead  body. 

The  barber  hied  him  home  and  fidgeted  about  his  shop,  set 
ting  everything  upside  down,  until  sunrise.  He  then  took  a 
basin  under  his  arm,  and  sallied  forth  to  the  house  of  his  daily 
customer,  the  Alcalde. 

The  Alcalde  was  just  risen.  Pedrillo  Pedrugo  seated  him  in 
a  chair,  threw  a  napkin  round  his  neck,  put  a  basin  of  hot 
water  under  his  chin,  and  began  to  mollify  his  beard  with  his 
fingers. 

"Strange  doings,"  said  Pedrugo,  who  played  barber  and 
newsmonger  at  the  same  time.  "Strange  doings!  Robbery, 
and  murder,  and  burial,  all  in  one  night !" 

"  Hey?  how!    What  is  it  you  soy?"  cried  tlie  Alcalde. 


LEQhND  OF  TEE  MOOR'S  LEGACY. 

"I  say,"  replied  the  barber,  rubbing  a  piece  of  soap  over  the 
nose  and  mouth  of  the  dignitary,  for  a  Spanish  barber  disdains 
to  employ  a  brush;  "I  say  that  Peregil  the  Gallego  has  robbed 
and  murdered  a  Moorish  Mussulman,  and  buried  him  this 
blessed  night, — maldita  sea  la  noche, — accursed  be  the  night 
for  the  same !" 

"But  how  do  you  know  all  this?"  demanded  the  Alcalde. 

"  Be  patient,  Sefior,  and  you  shall  hear  all  about  it,"  replied 
Pedrillo,  taking  him  by  the  nose  and  sliding  a  razor  over  his 
cheek.  He  then  recounted  all  that  he  had  seen,  going  through 
both  operations  at  the  same  time,  shaving  his  beard,  washing 
his  chin,  and  wiping  him  dry  with  a  dirty  napkin,  while  he 
was  robbing,  murdering,  and  burying  the  Moslem. 

Now  it  so  happened  that  this  Alcalde  was  one  of  the  most 
overbearing,  and  at  the  same  time  most  griping  and  corrupt 
curmudgeons  in  all  Granada.  It  could  not  be  denied,  however, 
that  he  set  a  high  value  upon  justice,  for  he  sold  it  at  its  weight 
in  gold.  He  presumed  the  case  in  point  to  be  one  of  murder 
and  robbery ;  doubtless  there  must  be  rich  spoil ;  how  was  it  to 
be  secured  into  the  legitimate  hands  of  the  law?  for  as  to 
merely  entrapping  the  delinquent — that  would  be  feeding  the 
gallows:  but  entrapping  the  booty — that  would  be  enriching 
the  judge ;  and  such,  according  to  his  creed,  was  the  great  end 
of  justice.  So  thinking,  he  summoned  to  his  presence  his 
trustiest  alguazil ;  a  gaunt,  hungry-looking  varlet,  clad,  accord 
ing  to  the  custom  of  his  order,  in  the  ancient  Spanish  garb— «. 
broad  black  beaver,  turned  up  at  the  sides;  a  quaint  ruff,  a 
small  black  cloak  dangling  from  his  shoulders;  rusty  black 
under-clothes  that  set  off  his  spare  wiry  form;  while  in  his 
hand  he  bore  a  slender  white  wand,  the  dreaded  insignia  of  his 
office.  Such  was  the  legal  bloodhound  of  the  ancient  Spanish 
breed,  that  he  put  upon  the  traces  of  the  unlucky  water-car 
rier;  and  such  was  his  speed  and  certainty  that  he  was  upon 
the  haunches  of  poor  Peregil  before  he  had  returned  to  his 
dwelling,  and  brought  both  him  and  his  donkey  before  the  dis 
penser  of  justice. 

The  Alcalde  bent  upon  him  one  of  his  most  terrific  frowns. 
"Hark  ye,  culprit,"  roared  he  in  a  voice  that  made  the  knees 
of  the  little  Gallego  smite  together, — "  Hark,  ye  culprit  1  there  is 
no  need  of  denying  thy  guilt :  everything  is  known  to  me.  A 
gallows  is  the  proper  reward  for  the  crime  thou  hast  commit 
ted,  but  I  am  merciful,  and  readily  listen  to  reason.  The  man 
that  has  been  murdered  in  thy  house  was  a  Moor,  an  infidel, 


116  THE  ALUAMBRA. 

the  enemy  of  our  faith.  It  was  doubtless  in  a  fit  of  religioin 
zeal  that  thou  hast  slain  him.  I  will  be  indulgent,  therefore ; 
render  up  the  property  of  which  thou  hast  robbed  him,  and  wo 
will  hush  the  matter  up." 

The  poor  water-carrier  called  upon  all  the  saints  to  witness 
his  innocence;  alas!  not  one  of  them  appeared,  and  if  there 
had,  the  Alcalde  would  have  disbelieved  the  whole  kalendar. 
The  water-carrier  related  the  whole  story  of  the  dying  Moor 
with  the  straightforward  simplicity  of  truth,  but  it  was  all  in 
vain:  "Wilt  thou  persist  in  saying,"  demanded  the  judge, 
'•  that  this  Moslem  had  neither  gold  nor  jewels,  which  were  the 
object  of  thy  cupidity?" 

"As  I  hope  to  be  saved,  your  worship,"  replied  the  water- 
carrier,  "he  had  nothing  but  a  small  box  of  sandal  wood,  which 
ho  bequeathed  to  me  in  reward  of  my  services." 

"A  box  of  sandal  wood!  a  box  of  sandal  wood!"  exclaimed 
the  Alcalde,  his  eyes  sparkling  at  the  idea  of  precious  jewels, 
"and  where  is  this  box?  where  have  you  concealed  it?" 

"An'  it  please  your  grace,"  replied  the  water-carrier,  "it  is 
In  one  of  the  panniers  of  my  mule,  and  heartily  at  the  service 
of  your  worship." 

He  had  hardly  spoken  the  words  when  the  keen  alguazil 
darted  off  and  reappeared  in  an  instant  with  the  mysterious 
box  of  sandal  wood.  The  Alcalde  opened  it  with  an  eager  and 
trembling  hand ;  all  pressed  forward  to  gaze  upon  the  treasures 
it  was  expected  to  contain;  when,  to  their  disappointment, 
nothing  appeared  within  but  a  parchment  scroll,  covered  with 
Arabic  characters,  and  an  end  of  a  waxen  taper ! 

When  there  is  nothing  to  be  gained  by  the  conviction  of  a 
prisoner,  justice,  even  in  Spain,  is  apt  to  be  impartial.  The 
Alcalde,  having  recovered  from  his  disappointment  and  found 
there  was  really  no  booty  in  the  case,  now  listened  dispassion 
ately  to  the  explanation  of  the  water-carrier,  which  was  cor 
roborated  by  the  testimony  of  his  wife.  Being  convinced, 
therefore,  of  his  innocence,  he  discharged  him  from  arrest ;  nay 
more,  he  permitted  him  to  carry  off  the  Moor's  legacy,  the  box 
of  sandal  wood  and  its  contents,  as  the  well-merited  reward  of 
Ms  humanity ;  but  he  retained  his  donkey  in  payment  of  cost 
and  charges. 

Behold  the  unfortunate  little  Gallego  reduced  once  more  to 
the  necessity  of  being  his  own  water-carrier,  and  trudging  up 
to  the  well  of  the  Alhambra  with  a  great  earthen  jar  upon  his 
ihoulder.  As  he  toiled  up  the  hill  in  the  heat  of  a  summer  noon 


LEGEND  OF  TSE  MOOR'S  LEGACY.      117 

his  usual  good-humour  forsook  him.  "Dog  of  an  Alcalde!" 
would  he  cry,  "to  rob  a  poor  man  of  the  means  of  his  subsist 
ence—of  the  best  friend  he  had  in  the  world !"  And  then,  at 
the  remembrance  of  the  beloved  companion  of  his  labours,  all 
the  kindness  of  his  nature  would  break  forth.  "Ah,  donkey 
of  my  heart !"  would  he  exclaim,  resting  his  burden  on  a  stone, 
and  wiping  the  sweat  from  his  brow,  "Ah,  donkey  of  my  heart! 
I  warrant  me  thou  thinkest  of  thy  old  master!  I  warrant  me 
thou  missest  the  water  jars— poor  beast !" 

To  add  to  his  afflictions  his  wife  received  him,  on  his  return 
home,  with  whimperings  and  repinings;  she  had  clearly  the 
vantage-ground  of  him,  having  warned  him  not  to  commit  the 
egregious  act  of  hospitality  that  had  brought  on  him  all  these 
misfortunes,  and  like  a  knowing  woman,  she  took  every  occa 
sion  to  throw  her  superior  sagacity  in  his  teeth.  If  ever  her 
children  lacked  food,  or  needed  a  new  garment,  she  would  an 
swer  with  a  sneer,  "  Go  to  your  father;  he's  heir  to  king  Chico 
of  the  Alhambra.  Ask  him  to  help  you  out  of  the  Moor's  strong 
box." 

Was  ever  poor  mortal  more  soundly  punished,  fw  having 
done  a  good  action !  The  unlucky  Peregil  was  grieved  in  flesh 
and  spirit,  but  still  he  bore  meekly  with  the  railings  of  his 
spouse.  At  length  one  evening,  when,  after  a  hot  day's  toil, 
she  taunted  him  in  the  usual  manner,  he  lost  all  patience.  He 
did  not  venture  to  retort  upon  her,  but  his  eye  rested  upon 
the  box  of  sandal  wood,  which  lay  on  a  shelf  with  lid  half 
open,  as  if  laughing  hi  mockery  of  his  vexation.  Seizing  it  up 
he  dashed  it  with  indignation  on  the  floor.  "Unlucky  was 
the  day  that  I  ever  set  eyes  on  thee,"  he  cried,  "or  sheltered 
thy  master  beneath  my  roof." 

As  the  box  struck  the  floor  the  lid  flew  wide  open,  and  the 
parchment  scroll  rolled  forth.  Peregil  sat  regarding  the  scroll 
for  some  time  in  moody  silence.  At  length  rallying  his  ideas, 
"  Who  knows,"  thought  he,  "but  this  writing  may  be  of  some 
importance,  as  the  Moor  seems  to  have  guarded  it  with  such 
care."  Picking  it  up,  therefore,  he  put  it  in  his  bosom,  and 
the  next  morning,  as  he  was  crying  water  through  the  streets, 
he  stopped  at  the  shop  of  a  Moor,  a  native  of  Tangiers,  who 
sold  trinkets  and  perfumery  in  the  Zacatin,  and  asked  him  to 
explain  the  contents. 

The  Moor  read  the  scroll  attentively,  then  stroked  his  beard 
and  smiled.  "This  manuscript,"  said  he,  "is  a  form  of  incan 
tation  for  the  recoverv  of  hidden  treasure,  that  is  under  the 


118  THE!  ALHAMBRA. 

power  of  enchantment.  It  is  said  to  have  such  virtue  that  the 
strongest  bolts  and  bars,  nay  the  adamantine  rock  itself  will 
yield  before  it." 

"Bah!  "cried  the  little  Gallego,  "what  is  all  that  to  me?  I 
am  no  enchanter,  and  know  nothing  of  buried  treasure."  So 
saying  he  shouldered  his  water- jar,  left  the  scroll  in  the  hands 
of  the  Moor,  and  trudged  forward  on  his  daily  rounds. 

That  evening,  however,  as  he  rested  himself  about  twilight 
at  the  well  of  the  Alhambra,  he  found  a  number  of  gossips  as 
sembled  at  the  place,  and  their  conversation,  as  is  not  unusuai 
at  that  shadowy  hour,  turned  upon  old  tales  and  traditions  of 
a  supernatural  nature.  Being  all  poor  as  rats,  they  dwelt  with 
peculiar  fondness  upon  the  popular  theme  of  enchanted  riches 
left  by  the  Moors  in  various  parts  of  the  Alhambra.  Above 
all,  they  concurred  in  the  belief  that  there  were  great  treasures 
buried  deep  in  the  earth  under  the  tower  of  the  Seven  Floors. 

These  stories  made  an  unusual  impression  on  the  mind  of 
honest  Peregil,  and  they  sank  deeper  and  deeper  into  his 
thoughts  as  he  returned  alone  down  the  darkling  avenues. 
' '  If,  after  all,  there  should  be  treasure  hid  beneath  that  tower 
— and  if  the  scroll  I  left  with  the  Moor  should  enable  me  to  get 
at  it !"  In  the  sudden  ecstasy  of  the  thought  he  had  well  nigh 
let  fall  his  water-jar. 

That  night  he  tumbled  and  tossed,  and  could  scarcely  get  a 
wink  of  sleep  for  the  thoughts  that  were  bewildering  his  brain. 
In  the  morning,  bright  and  early,  he  repaired  to  the  shop  of 
the  Moor,  and  told  him  all  that  was  passing  in  his  mind. 
"You  can  read  Arabic,"  said  he,  "suppose  we  go  together  to 
the  tower  and  try  the  effect  of  the  charm ;  if  it  fails  we  are  no 
worse  off  than  before,  but  if  it  succeeds  we  will  share  equally 
all  the  treasure  we  may  discover." 

"Hold,"  replied  the  Moslem,  "this  writing  is  not  sufficient 
of  itself;  it  must  be  read  at  midnight,  by  the  light  of  a  taper 
singularly  compounded  and  prepared,  the  ingredients  of  which 
are  not  within  my  reach.  Without  such  taper  the  scroll  is  of 
no  avail." 

"Say  no  more!"  cried  the  little  Gallego.  "I  have  such  a 
taper  at  hand  and  will  bring  it  here  in  a  moment."  So  saying 
he  hastened  home,  and  soon  returned  with  the  end  of  a  yellow 
wax  taper  that  he  had  found  in  the  box  of  sandal  wood. 

The  Moor  felt  it,  and  smelt  to  it.  "  Here  are  rare  and  costly 
perfumes,"  said  he,  "  combined  with  this  yellow  wax.  This  is 
the  kind  of  taper  specified  in  the  scroll.  While  this  burns,  the 


LEGEND  OF  THE  MOORS  LEGACY.       H9 

strongest  walls  and  most  secret  caverns  will  remain  open ;  woe 
to  him,  however,  who  lingers  within  until  it  be  extinguished. 
He  will  remain  enchanted  with  the  treasure." 

It  was  now  agreed  between  them  to  try  the  charm  that  very 
night.  At  a  late  hour,  therefore,  when  nothing  was  stirring 
but  bats  and  owls,  they  ascended  the  woody  hill  of  the  Alham- 
bra,  and  approached  that  awful  tower,  shrouded  by  trees  and 
tendered  formidable  by  so  many  traditionary  tales. 

By  the  light  of  a  lantern,  they  groped  their  way  through 
bushes,  and  over  fallen  stones,  to  the  door  of  a  vault  beneath 
the  tower.  With  fear  and  trembling  they  descended  a  flight 
of  steps  cut  into  the  rock.  It  led  to  an  empty  chamber,  damp 
and  drear,  from  which  another  flight  of  steps  led  to  a  deeper 
vault.  In  this  way  they  descended  four  several  flights,  lead 
ing  into  as  many  vaults,  one  below  the  other,  but  the  floor  of 
the  fourth  was  solid,  and  though,  according  to  tradition,  there 
remained  three  vaults  still  below,  it  was  said  to  be  impossible 
to  penetrate  farther,  the  residue  being  shut  up  by  strong  en 
chantment.  The  air  of  this  vault  was  damp  and  chilly,  and 
had  an  earthy  smell,  and  the  light  scarce  cast  forth  any  rays. 
They  paused  here  for  a  time  in  breathless  suspense,  until  they 
faintly  heard  the  clock  of  the  watch  tower  strike  midnight; 
upon  this  they  lit  the  waxen  taper,  which  diffused  an  odour 
ef  myrrh,  and  frankincense,  and  storax. 

The  Moor  began  to  read  in  a  hurried  voice.  He  had  scarce 
finished,  when  there  was  a  noise  as  of  subterraneous  thunder. 
The  earth  shook,  and  the  floor  yawning  open  disclosed  a  flight 
of  steps.  Trembling  with  awe  they  descended,  and  by  the 
light  of  the  lantern  found  themselves  in  another  vault,  covered 
with  Arabic  inscriptions.  In  the  centre  stood  a  great  chest, 
secured  with  seven  bands  of  steel,  at  each  end  of  which  sat  an 
enchanted  Moor  in  armour,  but  motionless  as  a  statue,  being 
controlled  by  the  power  of  the  incantation.  Before  the  chest 
were  several  jars  filled  with  gold  and  silver  and  precious 
Stones.  In  the  largest  of  these  they  thrust  their  arms  up  to 
the  elbow,  and  at  every  dip  hauled  forth  hands-full  of  broad 
yellow  pieces  of  Moorish  gold,  or  bracelets  and  ornaments  of 
the  same  precious  metal,  while  occasionally  a  necklace  of 
oriental  pearl  would  stick  to  their  fingers.  Still  they  trembled 
and  breathed  short  while  cramming  their  pockets  with  the 
spoils ;  and  cast  many  a  fearful  glance  at  the  two  enchanted 
Moors,  who  sat  grim  and  motionless,  glaring  upon  them  with 
unwinking  eyes.  At  length,  struck  with  a  sudden  panic  at 


120  THE  AL11AMBRA. 

some  fancied  noise,  they  both  rushed  up  the  staircase,  tumbled 
over  one  another  into  the  upper  apartment,  overturned  and 
extinguished  the  waxen  taper,  and  the  pavement  again  closed 
with  a  thundering  sound. 

Filled  with  dismay,  they  did  not  pause  until  they  had 
groped  their  way  out  of  the  tower,  and  beheld  the  stars  shin 
ing  through  the  trees.  Then  seating  themselves  upon  the\ 
grass,  they  divided  the  spoil,  determining  to  content  them1 
selves  for  the  present  with  this  mere  skimming  of  the  jars, 
but  to  return  on  some  future  night  and  drain  them  to  the  bot 
tom.  To  make  sure  of  each  other's  good  faith,  also,  they 
divided  the  talismans  between  them,  one  retaining  the  scroll 
and  the  other  the  taper;  this  done,  they  set  off  with  light 
hearts  and  well  lined  pockets  for  Granada. 

As  they  wended  their  way  down  the  hill,  the  shrewd  Moor 
whispered  a  word  of  counsel  in  the  ear  of  the  simple  little 
water-carrier. 

"Friend  Peregil,"  said  he,  "all  this  affair  must  be  kept  a 
profound  secret  until  we  have  secured  the  treasure  and  con 
veyed  it  out  of  harm's  way.  If  a  whisper  of  it  gets  to  the  ear 
of  the  Alcalde  we  are  undone !" 

"Certainly!"  replied  the  Gallego;  "nothing  can  be  more 
tame." 

"Friend  Peregil,"  said  the  Moor,  "you  are  a  discreet  man, 
and  I  make  no  doubt  can  keep  a  secret;  but— you  have  a 
wife—" 

"She  shall  not  know  a  word  of  it!"  replied  the  little  water- 
carrier  sturdily. 

"Enough,"  said  the  Moor,  "I  depend  upon  thy  discretion 
and  thy  promise." 

Never  was  promise  more  positive  and  sincere;  but  alas! 
what  man  can  keep  a  secret  from  his  wife?  Certainly  not 
such  a  one  as  Peregil  the  water-carrier,  who  was  one  of  the 
most  loving  and  tractable  of  husbands.  On  his  return  home 
he  found  his  wife  moping  in  a  corner. 

" Mighty  well !"  cried  she,  as  he  entered;  "you've  come  at 
last;  after  rambling  about  until  this  hour  of  the  night.  I 
Bonder  you  have  not  brought  home  another  Moor  as  a  house 
mate."  Then  bursting  into  tears  she  began  to  wring  her 
hands  and  smite  her  breast.  "Unhappy  woman  that  I  am!" 
exclaimed  she,  ' '  what  will  become  of  me  I  My  house  stripped 
and  plundered  by  lawyers  and  alguazils ;  my  husband  a  do-no- 
good  that  no  longer  brings  home  bread  for  his  family,  but 


LEGEND  OF  THE  MOORS  LEGACY.       121 

goes  rambling  about,  day  and  night,  with  infidel  Moors.  Oh, 
my  children!  my  children!  what  will  become  of  us-,  we  shall 
all  have  tu  beg  in  the  streets*." 

Honest  f  eregil  was  so  moved  by  the  distress  of  his  spouse, 
that  he  could  not  help  whimpering  also.  His  heart  was  as  full 
as  his  pocket,  and  not  to  be  restrained.  Thrusting  his  hand, 
into  the  latter  ne  hauled  forth  three  or  four  broad  gold  pieces 
and  slipped  them  into  her  bosom.  The  poor  woman  stared 
with  astonishment,  and  could  not  understand  the  meaning  of 
this  golden  shoiver.  Before  she  could  recover  her  surprise, 
the  little  Gallego  drew  forth  a  chain  of  gold  and  dangled  it 
before  her,  capering  with  exultation,  his  mouth  distended 
from  ear  to  ear. 

"Holy  Virgin  protect  us!"  exclaimed  the  wife.  "What 
hast  thou  been  doing,  Peregil?  Surely  thou  hast  not  been 
committing  murder  and  robbery  1" 

The  idea  scarce  entered  the  brain  of  the  poor  woman  than  it 
became  a  certainty  with  her.  She  saw  a  prison  and  a  gallows 
n  the  distance,  and.  a  little  bandy-legged  Gallego  dangling 
pendant  from  it;  and,  overcome  by  the  horrors  conjured  up 
by  her  imagination,  fell  into  violent  hysterics. 

What  could  the  poor  man  do?  He  had  no  other  means  of 
pacifying  his  wife  and  dispelling  the  phantoms  of  her  fancy, 
than  by  relating  the  whole  story  of  his  good  fortune.  This, 
however,  he  did  not  do  until  he  had  exacted  from  her  the 
most  solemn  promise  to  keep  it  a  profound  secret  from  every 
living  being. 

To  describe  her  joy  would  be  impossible.  She  flung  her 
arms  round  the  neck  of  her  husband,  and  almost  strangled 
him  with  her  caresses.  "Now,  wife!"  exclaimed  the  little 
man  with  honest  exultation,  "what  say  you  now  to  the  Moor's 
legacy?  Henceforth  never  abuse  me  for  helping  a  fellow  crea 
ture  in  distress." 

The  honest  Gallego  retired  to  his  sheepskin  mat,  and  slept  as 
soundly  as  if  on  a  bed  of  down.  Not  so  his  wife. — She  emptied 
fche  whole  contents  of  his  pockets  upon  the  mat,  and  sat  all 
night  counting  gold  pieces  of  Arabic  coin,  trying  on  necklaces 
and  ear-rings,  and  fancying  the  figure  she  should  one  day 
make  when  permitted  to  enjoy  her  riches. 

On  the  following  morning  the  honest  Gallego  took  a  broad 
golden  coin,  and  repaired  with  it  to  a  jeweller's  shop  in  the 
Zacatin  to  offer  it  for  sale ;  pretending  to  have  found  it  among 
the  ruins  of  the  Alhambra..  „  The  jeweller  saw  that  it  had  an 


122  TffB  ALHAMBRA. 

Arabic  inscription  and  was  of  the  purest  gold  ;  he  offered, 
however,  but  a  third  of  its  value,  with  which  the  water-carrier 
was  perfectly  content.  Peregil  now  bought  new  clothes  for 
his  little  flock,  and  all  kinds  of  toys,  together  with  ample  pro 
visions  for  a  hearty  meal,  and  returning  to  his  dwelling  set 
all  his  children  dancing  around  him,  while  he  capered  in  the 
midst,  the  happiest  of  fathers. 

The  wife  of  the  water-carrier  kept  her  promise  of  secrecy 
with  surprising  strictness.  For  a  whole  day  and  a  half  she 
went  about  with  a  look  of  mystery  and  a  heart  swelling  almost 
to  bursting,  yet  she  held  her  peace,  though  surrounded  by  her 
gossips.  It  is  true  she  could  not  help  giving  herself  a  few  airs, 
apologized  for  her  ragged  dress,  and  talked  of  ordering  a  new 
basquina  all  trimmed  with  gold  lace  and  bugles,  and  a  new 
lace  mantilla.  She  threw  out  hints  of  her  husband's  intention 
of  leaving  off  his  trade  of  water- carrying,  as  it  did  not  alto 
gether  agree  with  bis  health.  In  fact  she  thought  they  should 
all  retire  to  the  country  for  the  summer,  that  the  children 
might  have  the  benefit  of  the  mountain  air,  for  there  was  no 
living  in  the  city  in  this  sultry  season. 

The  neighbours  stared  at  each  other,  and  thought  the  poor 
woman  had  lost  her  wits,  and  her  airs  and  graces  and 
elegant  pretensions  were  the  theme  of  universal  scoffing 
and  merriment  among  her  friends,  the  moment  her  back  was 
turned. 

If  she  restrained  herself  abroad,  however,  she  indemnified 

herself  at  home,  and,  putting  a  string  of  rich  oriental  pearls 

round  her  neck,  Moorish  bracelets  on  her  arms ;  an  aigrette  of 

diamonds  on  her  head,  sailed  backwards  and  forwards  in  her 

slattern  rags  about  the  room,  now  and  then  stopping  to  rdmiro 

herself  in  a  piece  of  broken  mirror.    Nay,  in  the  impulse  of 

ler  simple  vanity,  she  could  not  resist  on  one  occasion  show- 

ng  herself  at  the  window,  to  enjoy  the  effect  of  her  finery  on 

the  passers  by. 

As  the  fates  would  have  it,  Pedrillo  Pedrugo,  the  meddle 
some  barber,  was  at  this  moment  sitting  idly  in  his  shop  on 
the  opposite  side  of  the  street,  when  his  ever  watchful  eye 
caught  the  sparkle  of  a  diamond.  In  an  instant  he  was  at  his 
loop-hole,  reconnoitring  the  slattern  spouse  of  the  water-car 
rier,  decorated  with  the  splendour  of  an  eastern  bride.  No 
sooner  had  he  taken  an  accurate  inventory  of  her  ornaments 
than  he  posted  off  with  all  speed  to  the  Alcalde.  In  a  little 
•while  the  hungry  alguazil  was  again  on  the  scent,  and  befor<» 


LEGEND  OF  TEE  MOOR'S  LEGACY.       123 

the  day  was  over,  the  unfortunate  Peregil  was  again  dragged 
into  the  presence  of  the  judge. 

"How  is  this,  villain!"  cried  the  Alcalde  in  a  furious  voice. 
"You  told  me  that  the  infidel  who  died  in  your  house  left 
nothing  behind  but  an  empty  coffer,  and  now  I  hear  of  your 
wife  flaunting  in  her  rags  decked  out  with  pearls  and  dia 
monds.  Wretch,  that  thou  art!  prepare  to  render  up  the 
spoils  of  thy  miserable  victim,  and  to  swing  on  the  gallows 
that  is  already  tired  of  waiting  for  thee." 

The  terrified  water-carrier  fell  on  his  knees,  and  made  a  full 
relation  of  the  marvellous  manner  in  which  he  had  gained  his 
wealth.  The  Alcalde,  the  alguazil,  and  the  inquisitive  barber 
listened  with  greedy  ears  to  this  Arabian  tale  of  enchanted 
treasure.  The  alguazil  was  despatched  to  bring  the  Moor  who 
had  assisted  in  the  incantation.  The  Moslem  entered  half  fright 
ened  out  of  his  wits  at  finding  himself  in  the  hands  of  the  harpies 
of  the  law.  When  he  beheld  the  water-carrier  standing  with 
sheepish  look  and  downcast  countenance,  he  comprehended 
the  whole  matter.  "Miserable  animal,"  said  he,  as  he  passed 
near  him,  "did  I  not  warn  thee  against  babbling  to  thy 
wife?" 

The  story  of  the  Moor  coincided  exactly  with  that  of  his  cok 
league ;  but  the  Alcalde  affected  to  be  slow  of  belief ,  and  tkrow 
out  menaces  of  imprisonment  and  rigorous  investigation. 

"Softly,  good  Sefior  Alcalde,"  said  the  Mussulman,  who  by 
this  time  had  recovered  his  usual  shrewdness  and  self-posses 
sion.  "Let  us  not  mar  fortune's  favours  in  the  scramble  foi 
them.  Nobody  knows  any  thing  of  this  matter  but  ourselves; 
let  us  keep  the  secret.  There  is  wealth  enough  in  the  cave  to 
enrich  us  all.  Promise  a  fair  division,  and  all  shall  be  pro- 
duced ;  refuse,  and  the  cave  shall  remain  for  ever  closed. " 

The  Alcalde  consulted  apart  with  the  alguazil.  The  latter  was 
an  old  fox  in  his  profession.  "Promise  any  thing,"  said  he, 
"untO  you  get  possession  of  the  treasure.  You  may  then  seize 
upon  the  whole,  and  if  he  and  his  accomplice  dare  to  murmur, 
threaten  them  with  the  faggot  and  the  stake  as  infidels  and 
sorcerers." 

The  Alcalde  relished  the  advice.  Smoothing  his  brow  and 
turning  to  the  Moor, — "This  is  a  strange  story,"  said  he,  "and 
may  be  true,  but  I  must  have  ocular  proof  of  it.  This  very 
night  you  must  repeat  the  incantation  in  my  presence.  If 
there  be  really  such  treasure,  we  will  share  it  amicably  between 
us,  and  say  nothing  further  of  the  matter;  if  ye  have  deceived 


J24  TJ1S  ALHAMBRz. 

me,  expect  no  mercy  at  my  hands.    In  the  mean  time  yov. 
must  remain  in  custody." 

The  Moor  and  the  water-carrier  cheerfully  agreed  to  these 
conditions,  satisfied  that  the  event  would  prove  the  truth  of 
their  words. 

Towards  midnight  the  Alcalde  sallied  forth  secretly,  attended 
by  the  alguazil  and  the  meddlesome  barber,  all  strongly  armed 
They  conducted  the  Moor  and  the  water-carrier  as  [prisoners, 
and  were  provided  Avith  the  stout  donkey  of  the  latter,  to  beai 
off  the  expected  treasure.  They  arrived  at  the  tower  without 
being  observed,  and  tying  the  donkey  to  a  fig-tree,  descended 
into  the  fourth  vault  of  the  tower. 

The  scroll  was  produced,  the  yellow  waxen  taper  lighted, 
and  the  Moor  read  the  form  of  incantation.  The  earth  trembled 
as  before,  and  the  pavement  opened  with  a  thundering  sound, 
disclosing  the  narrow  flight  of  steps.  The  Alcalde,  the  alguazil, 
and  the  barber  were  struck  aghast,  and  could  not  summon 
courage  to  descend.  The  Moor  and  the  water-carrier  entered 
the  lower  vault  and  found  the  two  Moors  seated  as  before,  silent 
and  motionless.  They  removed  two  of  the  great  jars  filled  with 
golden  coin  and  precious  stones.  The  water-carrier  bore  them 
up  one  by  one  upon  his  shoulders,  but  though  a  strong, 
backed  little  man,  and  accustomed  to  carry  burdens,  he 
staggered  beneath  their  weight,  and  found,  when  slung  on 
each  side  of  his  donkey,  they  were  as  much  as  the  animal  could 
bear. 

"Let  us  be  content  for  the  present,"  said  the  Moor;  "here  is 
as  much  treasure  as  we  can  carry  off  without  being  perceived, 
and  enough  to  make  us  all  wealthy  to  our  heart's  desire." 

"Is  there  more  treasure  remaining  behind?"  demanded  the 
Alcalde. 

"The  greatest  prize  of  all,"  said  the  Moor;  "a  huge  coffer, 
bound  with  bands  of  steel,  and  filled  with  pearls  and  precious 
stone*." 

"Let  us  have  up  the  coffer  by  all  means,"  cried  the  grasping 
Alcalde. 

"I  will  descend  for  no  more,"  said  the  Moor,  doggedly. 
"  Enough  is  enough  for  a  reasonable  man ;  more  is  superfluous." 

•'  And  I,  "said  the  water-carrier,  "will  bring  up  nc  further 
burthen  to  break  the  back  of  my  poor  donkey." 

Finding  commands,  threats,  and  entreaties  equally  vain,  the 
Alcalde  turned  to  his  two  adherents.  "Aid  me,"  said  he,  "to 
bring  up  the  coffer,  and  its  contents  shall  be  divided  between 


LEGEND  OP  THE  MOOR'S  LEGACY.  l^> 

us."  So  saying  he  descended  the  steps,  followed,  with  trenv 
bling  reluctance,  by  the  alguazil  and  the  barber. 

No  sooner  did  the  Moor  behold  them  fairly  earthed  than  ho 
extinguished  the  yellow  taper:  the  pavement  closed  with  its 
Usual  crash,  and  the  three  worthies  remained  buried  in  its 
womb. 

He  then  hastened  up  the  different  flights  of  steps,  nor  stopped 
until  in  the  open  air.  The  little  water-carrier  followed  him  as 
fast  as  his  short  legs  would  permit. 

"What  hast  thou  done?"  cried  Peregil,  as  soon  as  he  could 
recover  breath.  ' '  The  Alcalde  and  the  other  two  are  shut  up 
in  the  vault!" 

"It  is  the  will  of  Allah!"  said  the  Moor,  devoutly. 

"And  will  you  not  release  them?"  demanded  the  Gallego. 

"Allah  forbid !"  replied  the  Moor,  smoothing  his  beard.  "It 
is  written  in  the  book  of  fate  that  they  shall  remain  enchanted 
until  some  future  adventurer  shall  come  to  break  the  charm. 
The  will  of  God  be  done !"  So  saying  he  hurled  the  end  of  the 
waxen  taper  far  among  the  gloomy  thickets  of  the  glen. 

There  was  now  no  remedy ;  so  the  Moor  and  the  water-carrier 
proceeded  with  the  richly -laden  donkey  towards  the  city :  not 
could  honest  Peregil  refrain  from  hugging  and  kissing  his  long- 
eared  fellow-labourer,  thus  restored  to  him  from  the  clutches  of 
the  law;  and,  in  fact,  it  is  doubtful  which  gave  the  simple- 
hearted  little  man  most  joy  at  the  moment,  the  gaining  of  the 
treasure  or  the  recovery  of  the  donkey. 

The  two  partners  in  good  luck  divided  their  spoil  amicably 
and  fairly,  excepting  that  the  Moor,  who  had  a  little  taste  for 
trinketry,  made  out  to  get  into  his  heap  the  most  of  the  pearls 
and  precious  stones,  and  other  baubles,  but  then  he  always 
gave  the  water-carrier  in  lieu  magnificent  jewels  of  massy  gold 
four  times  the  size,  with  which  the  latter  was  heartily  content. 
They  took  care  not  to  linger  within  reach  of  accidents,  but 
made  off  to  enjoy  their  wealth  undisturbed  in  other  countries. 
The  Moor  returned  into  Africa,  to  his  native  city  of  Tetuan, 
and  the  Gallego,  with  his  wife,  his  children  and  his  donkey, 
made  the  best  of  his  way  to  Portugal.  Here,  under  the  ad 
monition  and  tuition  of  his  wife,  he  became  a  personage  of  some 
consequence,  for  she  made  the  little  man  array  his  long  body 
and  short  legs  in  doublet  and  hose,  with  a  feather  in  his  hat 
and  a  sword  by  his  side ;  and,  laying  aside  the  familiar  appella 
tion  of  Peregil,  assume  the  more  sonorous  title  of  Don  Pedro 
Gil.  His  progeny  grew  up  a  thriving  and  merry-hearted, 


126  THE  ALHAMBRA. 

though  short  and  bandy-legged  generation ;  while  the  Senora 
Gil,  be-fringed,  be-laced,  and  be-tasselled  from  her  head  to  her 
heels,  with  glittering  rings  on  every  finger,  became  a  model  of 
slattern  fashion  and  finery. 

As  to  the  Alcalde,  and  his  adjuncts,  they  remained  shut  up 
under  the  great  tower  of  the  Seven  Floors,  and  there  they  re 
main  spell-bound  at  the  present  day.  Whenever  there  shall  be 
a  lack  in  Spain  of  pimping  barbers,  sharking  alguazils,  ai>d 
corrupt  Alcaldes,  they  may  be  sought  after ;  but  if  they  hav« 
to  wait  until  such  time  for  their  deliverance,  there  is  danger  o* 
their  enchantment  enduring  until  doomsday. 


VISITORS  TO  THE  ALHAMBRA. 

IT  is  now  nearly  three  months  since  I  took  up  my  abode  in 
the  Alhambra,  during  which  time  the  progress  of  the  season 
has  wrought  many  changes.  When  I  first  arrived  every  thing 
was  in  the  freshness  of  May ;  the  f oliage  of  the  trees  was  still 
tender  and  transparent ;  the  pomegranate  had  not  yet  shed  its 
brilliant  crimson  blossoms ;  the  orchards  of  the  Xenil  and  the 
Darro  were  in  full  bloom ;  the  rocks  were  hung  with  wild  flow 
ers,  and  Granada  seemed  completely  surrounded  by  a  wilder 
ness  of  roses,  among  which  innumerable  nightingales  sang,  not 
merely  in  the  night,  but  all  day  long. 

The  advance  of  summer  has  withered  the  rose  and  silenced 
the  nightingale,  and  the  distant  country  begins  to  look  parched 
and  sunburnt ;  though  a  perennial  verdure  reigns  immediately 
round  the  city,  and  in  the  deep  narrow  valleys  at  the  foot  of 
the  snow-capped  mountains. 

The  Alhambra  possesses  retreats  graduated  to  the  heat  of  the 
weather,  among  which  the  most  peculiar  is  the  almost  subter 
ranean  apartment  of  the  baths.  This  still  retains  its  ancient 
oriental  character,  though  stamped  with  the  touching  traces 
of  decline.  At  the  entrance,  opening  into  a  small  court  for 
merly  adorned  with  flowers,  is  a  hall,  moderate  in  size,  but 
light  and  graceful  in  architecture.  It  is  overlooked  by  a  small 
gallery  supported  by  marble  pillars  and  moresco  arches.  An 
alabaster  fountain  in  the  centre  of  the  pavement  still  throws  up 
a  jet  of  water  to  cool  the  place.  On  each  side  are  deep  alcoves 
with  raised  platforms,  where  the  bathers  after  their  ablution* 


VISITORS  TO  THE  ALHAMBRA.  127 

reclined  on  luxurious  cushions,  soothed  to  voluptuous  repose 
by  the  fragrance  of  the  perfumed  air  and  the  notes  of  soft 
music  from  the  gallery.  Beyond  this  hall  are  the  interior 
chambers,  still  more  private  and  retired,  where  no  light  is 
admitted  but  through  small  apertures  in  the  vaulted  ceil 
ings.  Here  was  the  sanctum  sanctorum  of  female  privacy, 
where  the  beauties  of  the  harem  indulged  in  the  luxury  of 
the  baths.  A  soft  mysterious  light  reigns  through  the  place, 
the  broken  baths  are  still  there,  and  traces  of  ancient  elegance. 

The  prevailing  silence  and  obscurity  have  made  this  a  fa 
vourite  resort  of  bats,  who  nestle  during  the  day  in  the  dark 
nooks  and  corners,  and,  on  being  disturbed,  flit  mysteriously 
about  the  twilight  chambers,  heightening  in  an  indescribable 
degree  their  air  of  desertion  and  decay. 

In  this  cool  and  elegant  though  dilapidated  retreat,  which 
has  the  freshness  and  seclusion  of  a  grotto,  I  have  of  late  passed 
the  sultry  hours  of  the  day;  emerging  toward  sunset,  and 
bathing,  or  rather  swimming,  at  night  in  the  great  reservoir 
of  the  main  court.  In  this  way  I  have  been  enabled  in  a  mea 
sure  to  counteract  the  relaxing  and  enervating  influence  of  the 
climate. 

My  dream  of  absolute  sovereignty,  however,  is  at  an  end :  I 
was  roused  from  it  lately  by  the  report  of  fire-arms,  which 
reverberated  among  the  towers  as  if  the  castle  had  been  taken 
by  surprise.  On  sallying  forth  I  found  an  old  cavalier  with  a 
number  of  domestics  in  possession  of  the  hall  of  ambassadors. 
He  was  an  ancient  Count,  who  had  come  up  from  his  palace  in 
Granada  to  pass  a  short  time  in  the  Alhambra  for  the  benefit 
of  purer  air,  and  who,  being  a  veteran  and  inveterate  sports 
man,  was  endeavouring  to  get  an  appetite  for  his  breakfast  by 
shooting  at  swallows  from  the  balconies.  It  was  a  harmless 
amusement,  for  though,  by  the  alertness  of  his  attendants  in 
loading  his  pieces,  he  was  enabled  to  keep  up  a  brisk  fire,  I 
could  not  accuse  him  of  the  death  of  a  single  swallow.  Nay, 
the  bird£  themselves  seemed  to  enjoy  the  sport,  and  to  deride 
his  want  of  skill,  skimming  in  circles  close  to  the  balconies, 
and  twittering  as  they  darted  by. 

The  arrival  of  this  old  gentleman  has  in  some  measure 
changed  the  aspect  of  affairs,  but  has  likewise  afforded  matter 
for  agreeable  speculation.  We  have  tacitly  shared  the  empire 
between  us,  like  the  last  kings  of  Granada,  excepting  that  we 
maintain  a  most  amicable  alliance.  He  reigns  absolute  over 
the  Court  of  the  Lions  and  its  adjacentijialls,  while  I  maintain 


128  TlIE  ALII  AMUR  A. 

peaceful  possession  of  the  region  of  the  baths  and  the  little 
garden  of  Lindaraxa.  We  take  our  meals  together  under  the 
arcades  of  the  court,  where  the  fountains  cool  the  air,  and 
bubbling  rills  run  along  the  channels  of  the  marble  pavement. 

In  the  evening,  a  domestic  circle  gathers  about  the  worthy 
old  cavalier.  The  countess  comes  up  from  the  city,  with  a 
favourite  daughter  about  sixteen  years  of  age.  Then  there 
are  the  official  dependents  of  the  Count,  his  chaplain,  his  law 
yer,  his  secretary,  his  steward,  and  others  officers  and  agents 
of  his  extensive  possessions.  Thus  he  holds  a  kind  of  domestic 
court,  where  every  person  seeks  to  contribute  to  his  amuse 
ment,  without  sacrificing  his  own  pleasure  or  self-respect.  In 
fact,  whatever  may  be  said  of  Spanish  pride,  it  certainly  does 
not  enter  into  social  or  domestic  Me.  Among  no  people  are 
the  relations  between  kindred  more  cordial,  or  between  supe 
rior  and  dependent  more  frank  and  genial;  in  these  respects 
there  still  remains,  in  the  provincial  life  of  Spain,  much  of 
the  vaunted  simplicity  of  the  olden  times. 

The  most  interesting  member  of  this  family  group,  however, 
is  the  daughter  of  the  Count,  the  charming  though  almost  infan 
tile  little  Carmen.  Her  form  has  not  yet  attained  its  maturity, 
but  has  already  the  exquisite  symmetry  and  pliant  grace  so 
prevalent  in  this  country.  Her  blue  eyes,  fair  complexion, 
and  light  hair  are  unusual  in  Andalusia,  and  give  a  mildness 
and  gentleness  to  her  demeanour,  in  contrast  to  the  usual  fire 
of  Spanish  beauty,  but  in  perfect  unison  with  the  guileless  and 
confiding  innocence  of  her  manners.  She  has,  however,  all  the 
innate  aptness  and  versatility  of  her  fascinating  country 
women,  and  sings,  dances,  and  plays  the  guitar  and  other 
instruments  to  admiration.  A  few  days  after  taking  up  his 
residence  in  the  Alhambra,  the  Count  gave  a  domestic  fete  on 
his  saint's  day,  assembling  round  him  the  members  of  his 
family  and  household,  while  several  old  servants  came  from 
his  distant  possessions  to  pay  their  reverence  to  him,  and  par 
take  of  the  good  cheer. 

This  patriarchal  spirit  which  characterized  the  Spanish  no 
bility  in  the  days  of  their  opulence  has  declined  with  their 
fortunes ;  but  some  who,  like  the  Count,  still  retain  their  an 
cient  family  possessions,  keep  up  a  little  of  the  ancient  system, 
and  have  their  estates  overrun  and  almost  eaten  up  by  genera 
tions  of  idle  retainers*  According  to  this  magnificent  old 
Spanish  system,  in  which  the  national  pride  and  generosity 
bore  equal  parts,  a  superannuated  servant  was  never  turned 


VISITORS  TO  THE  ALHAMBEA.  ^Q 

off,  but  became  a  charge  for  the  rest  of  his  days;  nay,  his 
children,  and  his  children's  children,  and  often  their  relations, 
to  the  right  and  left,  became  gradually  entailed  upon  the 
family.  Hence  the  huge  palaces  of  the  Spanish  nobility, 
which  have  such  an  air  of  empty  ostentation  from  the  great 
ness  of  their  size  compared  with  the  mediocrity  and  scanti 
ness  of  their  furniture,  were  absolutely  required  in  the  golden 
days  of  Spain  by  the  patriarchal  habits  of  their  possessors. 
They  were  little  better  than  vast  barracks  for  the  hereditary 
generations  of  hangers-on  that  battened  at  the  expense  of  a 
Spanish  noble.  The  worthy  Count,  who  has  estates  in  various 
parts  of  the  kingdom,  assures  me  that  some  of  them  barely 
feed  the  hordes  of  dependents  nestled  upon  them ;  who  con 
sider  themselves  entitled  to  be  maintained  upon  the  place,  rent 
free,  because  their  forefathers  have  been  so  for  generations. 

The  domestic  fete  of  the  Count  broke  in  upon  the  usual  still 
lif e  of  the  Alhambra.  Music  and  laughter  resounded  through 
its  late  silent  halls ;  there  were  groups  of  the  guests  amusing 
themselves  about  the  galleries  and  gardens,  and  officious  ser 
vants  from  town  hurrying  through  the  courts,  bearing  viands 
to  the  ancient  kitchen,  which  was  again  alive  with  the  tread  of 
cooks  and  scullions,  and  blazed  with  unwonted  fires. 

The  feast,  for  a  Spanish  set  dinner  is  literally  a  feast,  was 
laid  in  the  beautiful  morescohall  called  "la  sala  de  las dos Her- 
manas,"  (the  saloon  of  the  two  sisters;)  the  table  groaned  with 
abundance,  and  a  joyous  conviviality  prevailed  round  the 
board ;  for  though  the  Spaniards  are  generally  an  abstemious 
people,  they  are  complete  revellers  at  a  banquet. 

For  my  own  part,  there  was  something  peculiarly  interest 
ing  in  thus  sitting  at  a  feast,  in  the  royal  halls  of  the  Alham 
bra,  given  by  the  representative  of  one  of  its  most  renowned 
conquerors;  for  the  venerable  Count,  though  unwarlike  him 
self,  is  the  lineal  descendant  and  representative  of  the  "  Great 
Captain,"  the  illustrious  Gonsalvo  of  Cordova,  whose  sword 
he  guards  in  the  archives  of  his  palace  at  Granada. 

The  banquet  ended,  the  company  adjourned  to  the  hall  of 
ambassadors.  Here  every  one  contributed  to  the  general 
amusement  by  exerting  some  peculiar  talent ;  singing,  impro 
vising,  telling  wonderful  tales,  or  dancing  to  that  all-pervad 
ing  talisman  of  Spanish  pleasure,  the  guitar. 

The  life  and  charm  of  the  whole  assemblage,  however,  was 
the  gifted  little  Carmen.  She  took  her  part  in  two  or  three 
scenes  from  Spanish  comedies,  exhibiting  a  charming  drar 


130  ?HB  ALEAMBRA. 

matic  talent ;  she  gave  imitations  of  the  popular  Italian  sing 
ers,  with  singular  and  whimsical  felicity,  and  a  rare  quality  ol 
voice;  she  imitated  the  dialects,  dances  and  ballads  of  the 
gipsies  and  the  neighbouring  peasantry,  but  did  every  thing 
with  a  facility,  a  neatness,  a  grace,  and  an  all-pervading  pret- 
tiness,  that  were  perfectly  fascinating.  The  great  charm  of 
her  performances,  however,  was  their  being  free  from  all  pre 
tension  or  ambition  of  display.  She  seemed  unconscious  ot 
the  extent  of  her  own  talents,  and  in  fact  is  accustomed  only 
to  exert  them  casually,  like  a  child,  for  the  amusement  of  the 
domestic  circle.  Her  observation  and  tact  must  be  remark 
ably  quick,  for  her  life  is  passed  in  the  bosom  of  her  family, 
and  she  can  only  have  had  casual  and  transient  glances  at 
the  various  characters  and  traits,  brought  out  impromptu  in 
moments  of  domestic  hilarity,  like  the  one  in  question.  It  is 
pleasing  to  see  the  fondness  and  admiration  with  which  every 
one  of  the  household  regards  her:  she  is  never  spoken  of,  even 
by  the  domestics,  by  any  other  appellation  than  that  of  La 
Nina,  "the  child,"  an  appellation  which  thus  applied  has 
something  peculiarly  kind  and  endearing  in  the  Spanish  lan 
guage. 

Never  shall  I  think  of  the  Alhambra  without  remembering 
the  lovely  little  Carmen  sporting  in  happy  and  innocent  girl 
hood  in  its  marble  halls ;  dancing  to  the  sound  of  the  Moorish 
castanets,  or  mingling  the  silver  warbling  of  her  voice  with 
the  music  of  the  fountains. 

On  this  festive  occasion  several  curious  and  amusing  legends 
and  traditions  were  told;  many  of  which  have  escaped  my 
memory ;  but  of  those  that  most  struck  me,  I  will  endeavour 
to  shape  forth  gome  entertainment  for  the  reader. 


LEGEND  OF  PRINCE  AHMED  AL  KAMEL; 

OR, 

THE  PILGRIM  OF  LOVE. 

THERE  was  once  a  Moorish  King  of  Granada  who  had  but 
one  son,  whom  he  named  Ahmed,  to  which  his  courtiers  added 
the  surname  of  al  Kamel,  or  the  perfect,  from  the  indubitable 
signs  of  super-excellence  which  they  perceived  in  him  in  his 
very  infancy.  The  astrologers  countenanced  them  in  theii 


LEGEND  OF  PRINCE  AI1MED  AL  RAVEL.         131 

foresight,  predicting  every  thing  in  his  favour  that  could 
make  a  perfect  prince  and  a  prosperous  sovereign.  One  cloud 
only  rested  upon  his  destiny,  and  even  that  was  of  a  roseate 
hue.  He  would  be  of  an  amorous  temperament,  and  run  great 
perils  from  the  tender  passion.  If,  however,  he  could  be  kept 
from  the  allurements  of  love  until  of  mature  age,  these  dan 
gers  would  be  averted,  and  his  life  thereafter  be  one  uninter 
rupted  course  of  felicity. 

To  prevent  all  danger  of  the  kind,  the  king  wisely  deter 
mined  to  rear  the  prince  in  a  seclusion,  where  he  should  never 
see  a  female  face  nor  hear  even  the  name  of  love.  For  this 
purpose  he  built  a  beautiful  palace  on  the  brow  of  a  hill  above 
the  Alhambra,  hi  the  midst  of  delightful  gardens,  but  sur 
rounded  by  lofty  walls ;  being,  in  fact,  the  same  palace  known 
at  the  present  day  by  the  name  of  the  Generaliffe.  In  this 
palace  the  youthful  prince  was  shut  up  and  entrusted  to  the 
guardianship  and  instruction  of  Ebon  Bonabbon,  one  of  the 
wisest  and  dryest  of  Arabian  sages,  who  had  passed  the  great 
est  part  of  his  lif  e  in  Egypt,  studying  hieroglyphics  and  mak 
ing  researches  among  the  tombs  and  pyramids,  and  who  saw 
more  charms  in  an  Egyptian  mummy  than  in  the  most  tempt 
ing  of  living  beauties.  The  sage  was  ordered  to  instruct  the 
prince  in  all  kinds  of  knowledge  but  one— he  is  to  be  kept 
Utterly  ignorant  of  love — "use  every  precaution  for  the  pur 
pose  you  may  think  proper,"  said  the  king,  "but  remember, 
oh  Ebon  Bonabbon,  if  my  son  learns  aught  of  that  forbidden 
knowledge,  while  under  your  care,  your  head  shall  answer  for 
it."  A  withered  smile  came  over  the  dry  visage  of  the  wise 
Bonabbon  at  the  menace.  "Let  your  majesty's  heart  be  as 
easy  about  your  son  as  mine  is  about  my  head.  Am  I  a  man 
likely  to  give  lessons  in  the  idle  passion?" 

Under  the  vigilant  care  of  the  philosopher,  the  prince  grew 
'  up  in  the  seclusion  of  the  palace  and  its  gardens.  He  had 
black  slaves  to  attend  upon  him — hideous  mutes,  who  knew 
nothing  of  love,  or  if  they  did,  had  not  words  to  communicate 
it.  His  mental  endowments  were  the  peculiar  care  of  Ebon 
Bonabbon,  who  sought  to  initiate  him  into  the  abstruse  lore  of 
Egypt,  but  in  this  the  prince  made  little  progress,  and  it  was 
soon  evident  that  he  had  no  turn  for  philosophy. 

He  was,  however,  amazingly  ductile  for  a  youthful  prince ; 
ready  to  follow  any  advice  and  always  guided  by  the  last  coun 
cillor.  He  suppressed  his  yawns,  and  listened  patiently  to  the 
long  and  learned  discourses  of  Ebon  Bonabbon,  frop^  which  he 


132  THE  ALUAMBRA. 

imbibed  a  smattering  of  various  kinds  of  knowledge,  and  thus 
happily  attained  his  twentieth  year,  a  miracle  of  princely  wis- 
dom,  but  totally  ignorant  of  love. 

About  this  time,  however,  a  change  came  over  the  conduct 
of  the  prince.  He  completely  abandoned  his  studies  and  took 
to  strolling  about  the  gardens  and  musing  by  the  side  of  the 
Fountains.  He  had  been  taught  a  little  music  among  his  van 
i>us  accomplishments ;  it  now  engrossed  a  great  part  of  his 
time,  and  a  turn  for  poetry  became  apparent.  The  sage  Ebon 
Bonabbon  took  the  alarm,  and  endeavoured  to  work  these  idle 
humours  out  of  him  by  a  severe  course  of  algebra;  but  the 
prince  turned  from  it  with  distaste.  "  I  cannot  endure  alge 
bra,"  said  he;  "  it  is  an  abomination  to  me.  I  want  something 
tkat  speaks  more  to  the  heart." 

The  sage  Ebon  Bonabbon  shook  his  dry  head  at  the  words. 
"  Here's  an  end  to  philosophy,"  thought  he.  "  The  prince  has 
discovered  he  has  a  heart !"  He  now  kept  anxious  watch  upon 
his  pupil,  and  saw  that  the  latent  tenderness  of  his  nature 
was  in  activity,  and  only  wanted  an  object.  He  wandered 
about  the  gardens  of  the  Generaliffe  in  an  intoxication  of 
feelings  of  which  he  knew  not  the  cause.  Sometimes  ho 
•would  sit  plunged  in  a  delicious  reverie ;  then  he  would  seize 
his  lute  and  draw  from  it  the  most  touching  notes,  and 
then  throw  it  aside,  and  break  forth  into  sighs  and  ejacula 
tions. 

By  degrees  this  loving  disposition  began  to  extend  to  inani 
mate  objects ;  he  had  his  favourite  flowers  which  he  cherished 
with  tender;  assiduity  then  he  became  attached  to  various 
trees,  and  there  was  one  in  particular,  of  a  graceful  form  and 
drooping  foliage,  on  which  he  lavished  his  amorous  devo 
tion,  carving  his  name  on  its  bark,  hanging  garlands  on  its 
branches,  and  singing  couplets  in  its  praise,  to  the  accompani 
ment  of  his  lute. 

The  sage  Ebon  Bonabbon  was  alarmed  at  this  excited  state 
of  his  pupil.  He  saw  him  on  the  very  brink  of  forbidden 
knowledge — the  least  hint  might  reveal  to  him  the  fatal  secret. 
Trembling  for  the  safety  of  the  prince,  and  the  security  of 
his  own  head,  he  hastened  to  draw  him  from  the  seductions 
of  the  garden,  and  shut  him  up  in  the  highest  tower  of 
the  Generaliffe.  It  contained  beautiful  apartments,  and  com 
manded  an  almost  boundless  prospect,  but  was  elevated  far 
above  that  atmosphere  of  sweats  and  those  witching  bowers  s*1 
dangerous  to  the  feelings  of  the  too  susceptible  Ahmed. 


LEGENb   OF  PRINCE  AHMED  AL  KAMEL.         133 

What  was  to  be  done,  however,  to  reconcile  him  to  this 
restraint  and  to  beguile  the  tedious  hours?  He  had  exhausted 
almost  all  kinds  of  agreeable  knowledge;  and  algebra  was 
not  to  be  mentioned.  Fortunately  Ebon  Bonabbon  had  been 
instructed,  when  in  Egypt,  in  the  language  of  birds,  by  a 
Jewish  Eabbin,  who  had  received  it  in  lineal  transmission 
from  Solomon  the  wise,  who  had  been  taught  it  by  the  Queen 
of  Sheba.  At  the  very  mention  of  such  a  study  the  eyes  of 
the  prince  sparkled  with  animation,  and  he  applied  himself 
to  it  with  such  avidity,  that  he  soon  became  as  great  an  adept 
as  his  master. 

The  tower  of  the  Generaliffe  was  no  longer  a  solitude ;  he 
nad  companions  at  hand  with  whom  he  could  converse.  The 
first  acquaintance  ne  formed  was  with  a  hawk  who  had  built 
his  nest  in  a  crevice  of  the  lofty  battlements,  from  whence  ho 
soared  far  and  wide  in  quest  of  prey.  The  prince,  however, 
found  little  to  like  or  esteem  in  him.  He  was  a  mere  pirate 
of  the  air,  swaggering  and  boastful,  whose  talk  was  all  about 
rapine,  and  carnage,  and  desperate  exploits. 

His  next  acquaintance  was  an  owl,  a  mighty  wise-looking 
bird,  with  a  large  head  and  staring  eyes,  who  sat  blinking 
and  goggling  ah1  day  in  a  hole  in  the  wall,  but  roamed  forth  at 
night.  He  had  great  pretensions  to  wisdom ;  talked  something 
of  astrology  and  the  moon,  and  hinted  at  the  dark  sciences, 
but  he  was  grievously  given  to  metaphysics,  and  the  prince 
found  his  prosings  were  more  ponderous  than  those  of  the 
sage  Ebon  Bonabbon. 

Then  there  was  a  bat,  that  hung  all  day  by  his  heels  in  the 
iark  corner  of  a  vault,  but  sallied  out  in  a  slip-shod  style  at 
twilight.  He,  however,  had  but  twilight  ideas  on  all  subjects, 
derided  things  of  which  he  had  taken  but  an  imperfect  view, 
and  seemed  to  take  delight  in  nothing. 

Beside  these  there  was  a  swallow,  with  whom  the  prince 
was  at  first  much  taken.  He  was  a  smart  talker,  but  restless, 
bustling,  and  for  ever  on  the  wing;  seldom  remaining  long 
enough  for  any  contiuued  conversation.  He  turned  out  in  the 
end  to  be  a  mere  smatterer,  who  did  but  skim  over  the  surface 
of  things,  pretending  to  know  every  thing,  but  knowing  noth 
ing  thoroughly. 

These  were  the  only  feathered  associates  with  whom  the 
prince  had  any  opportunity  of  exercising  his  newly  acquired 
Language ;  the  tower  was  too  high  for  any  other  birds  to  fre 
quent  it.  He  soon  grew  w«Rrv  of  his  new  acquaintances 


134  THE  ALHAMBRA. 

whose  conversation  spake  so  little  to  the  head  and  nothing  to 
the  heart ;  and  gradually  relapsed  into  his  loneliness.  A  win 
ter  passed  away,  spring  opened  with  all  its  bloom,  and 
verdure,  and  breathing  sweetness,  and  the  happy  time  arrived 
for  birds  to  pair  and  build  their  nests.  Suddenly,  as  it  were, 
a  universal  burst  of  song  and  melody  broke  forth  from  the 
groves  and  gardens  of  the  Generaliffe,  and  reached  the  prince 
in  the  solitude  of  his  tower.  From  every  side  he  heard  the 
same  universal  theme— love— love— love— chaunted  forth  and 
responded  to  in  every  variety  of  note  and  tone.  The  prince 
listened  in  silence  and  perplexity.  "What  can  be  this  love," 
thought  he,  "  of  which  the  world  seems  so  full,  and  of  which  I 
know  nothing?"  He  applied  for  information  to  his  friend  the 
hawk.  The  ruffian  bird  answered  in  a  tone  of  scorn,1— "You 
must  apply,"  said  he,  "  to  the  vulgar,  peaceable  birds  of  earth, 
who  are  made  for  the  prey  of  us  princes  of  the  air.  My  trade 
is  war,  and  fighting  my  delight.  In  a  word,  I  am  a  warrior, 
and  know  nothing  of  this  thing  called  love." 

The  prince  turned  from  him  with  disgust,  and  sought  the 
owl  in  his  retreat.  "This  is  a  bird,"  said  he,  "of  peaceful 
habits,  and  may  be  able  to  solve  my  question."  So  he  asked 
the  owl  to  tell  him  what  was  this  love  about  which  all  the  birds 
in  the  groves  below  were  singing. 

Upon  this  the  owl  put  on  a  look  of  offended  dignity.  "  My 
nights,"  said  he,  "  are  taken  up  in  study  and  research,  and  my 
days  in  ruminating  in  myself  upon  all  that  I  have  learnt.  As 
to  these  singing  birds  of  whom  you  talk,  I  never  listen  to  them. 
I  despise  them  and  their  themes.  Allah  be  praised,  I  cannot 
sing.  In  a  word,  I  am  a  philosopher,  and  know  nothing  of 
this  thing  called  love." 

The  prince  now  repaired  to  the  vault  where  his  friend  the 
oat  was  hanging  by  the  heels,  and  propounded  the  same  ques- 
,tion.  The  bat  wrinkled  up  his  nose  into  a  most  snappish  ex 
pression.  "Why  do  you  disturb  me  in  my  morning's  nap 
with  such  an  idle  question,"  said  he  peevishly.  "I  only  fly 
by  twilight  when  all  birds  are  asleep,  and  never  trouble  myself 
with  their  concerns.  I  am  neither  bird  nor  beast,  and  I  thank 
heaven  for  it.  I  have  found  out  the  villainy  of  the  whole  of 
them,  and  hate  them,  one  and  all.  In  a  word,  I  am  a  mis 
anthrope,  and  know  nothing  of  this  thing  called  love." 

As  a  last  resort,  the  prince  was  now  sought  the  swallow,  and 
stopped  him  just  as  he  was  circling  about  the  summit  of  the 
tower.  The  swallow  as  usual  was  in  a  prodigious  hurry,  and 


LEGEND  OF  PRINCE  AHMED  AL  KAMEL.         135 

had  scarce  time  to  make  a  reply.  "  Upon  my  word,*  said  he, 
"  I  have  so  much  public  business  to  attend  to,  and  so  many 
pursuits  to  follow,  that  I  have  had  no  time  to  think  on  the 
subject.  I  have  every  day  a  thousand  visits  to  pay ;  a  thou 
sand  affairs  of  importance  to  examine  into,  that  leave  me  not  3 
moment  of  leisure  for  these  little  sing-song  matters.  In  a 
word,  I  am  a  citizen  of  the  world.  I  know  nothing  of  this 
thing  called  love."  So  saying,  the  swallow  dived  into  the 
valley  and  was  out  of  sight  in  a  moment. 

The  prince  remained  disappointed  and  perplexed,  but  with 
his  curiosity  still  more  piqued  by  the  difficulty  of  gratifying  it. 
While  in  this  mood  his  ancient  guardian  entered  the  tower. 
The  prince  advanced  eagerly  to  meet  him.  "  Oh  sage  Ebon 
Bonabbon,"  cried  he,  "  thou  hast  revealed  to  me  much  of  the 
wisdom  of  the  earth,  but  there  is  one  thing  of  which  I  remain 
in  utter  ignorance,  and  would  fain  be  informed." 

"My  prince  has  but  to  make  the  inquiry,  and  every  thing 
within  the  limited  range  of  his  servant's  intellect  is  at  his  com 
mand." 

"Tell  me  then,  oh  most  profound  of  sages,  what  is  the  na 
ture  of  this  thing  called  love?" 

The  sage  Ebon  Bonabbon  was  struck  as  with  a  thunderbolt. 
He  trembled  and  turned  pale,  and  felt  as  if  his  head  sat  but 
loosely  on  his  shoulders. 

"  What  could  suggest  such  a  question  to  my  prince?— where 
could  he  have  learnt  so  idle  a  word?" 

The  prince  led  him  to  the  window  of  the  tower.  "  Listen, 
oh  Ebon  Bonabbon !"  said  he.  The  sage  listened.  The  night 
ingale  sat  in  a  thicket  below  the  tower  singing  to  his  paramour, 
the  rose ;  from  every  blossomed  spray  and  tufted  grove  arose 
a  strain  of  melody,  and  love — love  —love,  was  still  the  unvary 
ing  theme.  "Allah  Achbar!  God  is  great!"  exclaimed  the 
wise  Bonabbon.  ' '  Who  shall  pretend  to  keep  this  secret  from 
the  hearts  of  men  when  even  the  birds  of  the  air  conspire  to 
betray  it?" 

Then  turning  to  Ahmed,  "  Oh  my  prince,"  cried  he,  "shut 
thine  ears  to  these  seductive  strains.  Close  thy  mind  against 
this  dangerous  knowledge.  Know  that  this  love  is  the  cause 
of  half  the  ills  of  wretched  mortality.  It  is  this  which  pro 
duces  bitterness  of  strife  between  brethren  and  friends ;  which 
causes  treacherous  murder  and  desolating  war.  Care  and  sor 
row,  weary  days  and  sleepless  nights,  are  its  attendants.  It 
withers  the  bloom  and  blights  the  joys  of  youth,  and  brings 


136  TUB  ALHAMBRA. 

on  the  ills  and  griefs  of  premature  old  age.  Allah  preserve 
thee,  my  prince,  in  total  ignorance  of  this  thing  called  love !" 

The  sage  Ebon  Bonabbon  hastily  retired,  leaving  the  prince 
plunged  in  still  deeper  perplexity.  It  was  in  vain  he  at 
tempt  ed  to  dismiss  the  subject  from  his  mind;  it  still  con 
tinued  uppermost  in  his  thoughts,  and  teased  and  exhausted 
him  with  vain  conjectures.  "  Surely, "  said  he  to  himself  as 
he  listened  to  the  tuneful  strains  of  the  birds,  "there  is  no 
sorrow  in  these  notes :  every  thing  seems  tenderness  and  joy. 
If  love  be  a  cause  of  such  wretchedness  and  strife,  why  are 
not  those  birds  drooping  in  solitude,  or  tearing  each  other  in 
pieces,  instead  of  fluttering  cheerfully  about  the  groves,  or 
sporting  with  each  other  among  the  flowers?" 

He  lay  one  morning  on  his  couch  meditating  on  this  in 
explicable  matter.  The  window  of  his  chamber  was  open  to 
admit  the  soft  morning  breeze  which  came  laden  with  the  pcv- 
fume  of  orange  blossoms  from  the  valley  of  the  Darro.  Tiio 
voice  of  the  nightingale  was  faintly  heard,  still  chanting  tho 
wonted  theme.  As  the  prince  was  listening  and  sighing,  there 
was  a  sudden  rushing  noise  in  the  air;  a  beautiful  dove,  pur 
sued  by  a  hawk,  darted  in  at  the  window  and  fell  panting  en 
the  floor;  while  the  pursuer,  balked  of  his  prey,  soared  oS.  to 
the  mountains. 

The  prince  took  up  the  gasping  bird,  smoothed  its  feathers, 
and  nestled  it  in  his  bosom.  When  he  had  soothed  it  by  bis 
caresses  he  put  it  in  a  golden  cage,  and  offered  it,  with  his 
own  hands,  the  whitest  and  finest  of  wheat  and  the  purest  of 
water.  The  bird,  however,  refused  food,  and  sat  drooping  and 
pining,  and  uttering  piteous  moans. 

"What  aileth  thee?"  said  Ahmed.  "Hastthou  not  every 
thing  thy  heart  can  wish?" 

"Alas,  no!"  replied  the  dove,  "  am  I  not  separated  from  tho 
partner  of  my  heart— and  that  too  in  the  happy  spring-time— 
the  very  season  of  love?" 

"Of  love!"  echoed  Ahmed.  "I  pray  thee,  my  pretty  bird, 
canst  thou  then  tell  me  what  is  love?" 

"  Too  well  can  I,  my  prince.  It  is  the  torment  of  one,  the 
felicity  of  two,  the  strife  and  enmity  of  three.  It  is  a  charm 
which  draws  two  beings  together,  and  unites  them  by  delicious 
sympathies,  making  it  happiness  to  be  with  each  other,  but 
misery  to  be  apart.  Is  there  no  being  to  whom  you  are  drawn 
by  these  ties  of  tender  affection?" 

"I  like  my  old  teac^r.  Fbon  Bonabbon,  better  than  any 


LEGEND   OF  PRINCE  AHMED  AL  KAMEL.         137 

other  being ;  but  he  is  often  tedious,  and  I  occasionally  feel 
myself  happier  without  his  society." 

"That  is  not  the  sympathy  I  mean.  I  speak  of  love,  the 
great  mystery  and  principle  of  life ;  the  intoxicating  revel  of 
youth ;  the  sober  delight  of  age.  Look  forth  my  prince,  and 
behold  how  at  this  blest  season  all  nature  is  full  of  love.  Every 
created  being  has  its  mate ;  the  most  insignificant  bird  sings  to 
its  paramour ;  the  very  beetle  woos  its  lady  beetle  in  the  dust, 
and  yon  butterflies  which  you  see  fluttering  high  above  the 
tower  and  toying  in  the  air  are  happy  in  each  other's  love. 
Alas,  my  prince !  hast  thou  spent  so  many  of  the  precious  days 
of  youth  without  knowing  any  thing  of  love !  Is  there  no  gen 
tle  being  of  another  sex ;  no  beautiful  princess,  or  lovely  damsel 
who  has  ensnared  your  heart,  and  filled  your  bosom  with  a 
soft  tumult  of  pleasing  pains  and  tender  wishes?" 

"  I  begin  to  understand !"  said  the  prince  sighing.  "  Such  a 
tumult  I  have  more  than  once  experienced  without  knowing 
the  cause ;  and  where  should  I  seek  for  an  object  such  as  you 
describe  in  this  dismal  solitude?" 

A  little  further  conversation  ensued,  and  the  first  amatory 
lesson  of  the  prince  was  complete. 

"Alas!"  said  he,  "if  love  be  indeed  such  a  delight,  and  its 
interruption  such  a  misery,  Allah  forbid  that  I  should  mar  the 
joy  of  any  of  its  votaries."  He  opened  the  cage,  took  out  the 
dove,  and,  having  fondly  kissed  it,  carried  it  to  the  window. 
"  Go,  happy  bird,"  said  he,  "  rejoice  with  the  partner  of  thy 
heart  in  the  days  of  youth  and  spring-time.  Why  should  I 
make  thee  a  fellow  prisoner  in  this  dreary  tower,  where  love 
can  never  enter?" 

The  dove  flapped  its  wings  in  rapture,  gave  one  vault  into 
the  air,  and  then  swooped  downward  on  whistling  wings  to 
the  blooming  bowers  of  the  Darro. 

The  prince  followed  him  with  his  eyes,  and  then  gave  way  to 
bitter  repining.  The  singing  of  the  birds  which  once  delighted 
him  now  added  to  his  bitterness.  Love!  love!  lovel!  Alas, 
poor  youth,  he  now  understood  the  strain. 

His  eyes  flashed  fire  when  next  he  beheld  the  sage  Bonab- 
bon.  "Why  hast  thou  kept  me  in  this  abject  ignorance?" 
cried  he.  "Why  has  the  great  mystery  and  principle  of  life 
been  withheld  from  me,  in  which  I  find  the  meanest  insect  is 
so  learned?  Behold  all  nature  is  in  a  revel  of  delight.  Every 
created  being  rejoices  with  its  mate.  This — this  is  the  love 
about  which  I  have  sought  instruction ;  why  am  I  alone  d&- 


138  THE  ALHAHBRA. 

barred  its  enjoyment?  why  hast  so  much  of  my  youth  been 
wasted  without  a  knowledge  of  its  rapture?" 

The  sage  Bonabbon  saw  that  all  further  reserve  was  use 
less,  for  the  prince  had  acquired  the  dangerous  and  forbidden 
knowledge.  He  revealed  to  him,  therefore,  the  predictions 
of  the  astrologers,  and  the  precautions  that  had  been  taken 
in  his  education  to  avert  the  threatened  evils.  "And  now, 
my  prince,"  added  he,  "my  life  is  in  your  hands.  Let  the 
king  your  father  discover  that  you  have  learned  the  passion 
of  love  while  under  my  guardianship,  and  my  head  must  an 
swer  for  it." 

The  prince  was  as  reasonable  as  most  young  men  of  his  age, 
and  easily  listened  to  the  remonstrances  of  his  tutor,  since 
nothing  pleaded  against  them.  Beside,  he  really  was  at 
tached  to  the  sage  Bonabbon,  and  being  as  yet  but  theoreti 
cally  acquainted  with  the  passion  of  love,  he  consented  to 
confine  the  knowledge  of  it  to  his  own  bosom,  rather  than 
endanger  the  head  of  the  philosopher.  His  discretion  was 
doomed,  however,  to  be  put  to  still  further  proofs.  A  few 
mornings  afterwards,  as  he  was  i-uminating  on  the  battle 
ments  of  the  tower,  the  dove  which  had  been  released  by  him 
came  hovering  in  the  air,  and  alighted  fearlessly  upon  his 
shoulder. 

The  prince  fondled  it  to  his  breast.  "  Happy  bird,"  said  he, 
"  who  can  fly,  as  it  were,  with  the  wings  of  the  morning  to 
the  uttermost  parts  of  the  earth.  Where  hast  thou  been  since 
we  parted?" 

"In  a  far  country,  my  prince;  from  whence  I  bring  you 
tidings  in  reward  for  my  liberty.  In  the  wide  compass  of  my 
flight,  which  extends  over  plain  and  mountain,  as  I  was  soar 
ing  in  the  air,  I  beheld  below  me  a  delightful  garden  with  all 
kinds  of  fruits  and  flowers.  It  was  in  a  green  meadow  on 
the  banks  of  a  meandering  stream,  and  in  the  centre  of  the 
garden  was  a  stately  palace.  I  alighted  in  one  of  the  bowers 
to  repose  after  my  weary  flight ;  on  the  green  bank  below  me 
was  a  youthful  princess  in  the  very  sweetness  and  bloom  of 
her  years.  She  was  surrounded  by  female  attendants,  young 
like  herself,  who  decked  her  with  garlands  and  coronets  of 
flowers ;  but  no  flower  of  field  or  garden  could  compare  with 
her  for  loveliness.  Here,  however,  she  bloomed  in  secret,  for 
the  garden  was  surrounded  by  high  walls,  and  no  mortal  man 
vvas  permitted  to  enter.  When  I  beheld  this  beauteous  maid 
thus  young,  and  innocent,  and  unspotted  by  the  world,  I 


LEGEND   OF  PRINCE  AHMED  AL  KAMEL,         13g 

thought,  here  is  the  being  formed  by  heaven  to  inspire  my 
prince  with  love." 

The  description  was  as  a  spark  of  fire  to  the  combustible 
heart  of  Ahmed ;  all  the  latent  amorousness  of  his  tempera 
ment  had  at  once  found  an  object,  and  he  conceived  an 
immeasurable  passion  for  the  princess.  He  wrote  a  letter 
couched  in  the  most  impassioned  language,  breathing  his  fer 
vent  devotion,  but  bewailing  the  unhappy  thraldom  of  his  per-, 
son,  which  prevented  him  from  seeking  her  out,  and  throwing 
himself  at  her  feet.  He  added  couplets  of  the  most  tender 
and  moving  eloquence,  for  he  was  a  poet  by  nature  and  in 
spired  by  love.  He  addressed  his  letter,  "To  the  unknown 
beauty,  from  the  captive  prince  Ahmed,"  then  perfuming  it 
with  musk  and  roses,  he  gave  it  to  the  dove. 

"Away,  trustiest  of  messengers,"  said  he.  "  Fly  over  moun 
tain,  and  valley,  and  river,  and  plain ;  rest  not  in  bower  nor 
set  foot  on  earth,  until  thou  hast  given  this  letter  to  the  mis 
tress  of  my  heart. " 

The  dove  soared  high  in  air,  and  taking  his  course  darted 
away  in  one  undeviating  direction.  The  prince  followed  hirn 
with  his  eye  until  he  was  a  mere  speck  on  a  cloud,  and  grad 
ually  disappeared  behind  a  mountain. 

Day  after  day  he  watched  for  the  return  of  the  messenger 
of  love ;  but  he  watched  in  vain.  He  began  to  accuse  him  of 
forgetfulness,  when  towards  sunset,  one  evening,  the  faithful 
bird  fluttered  into  his  apartment,  and,  falling  at  his  feet,  ex 
pired.  The  arrow  of  some  wanton  archer  had  pierced  his 
breast,  yet  he  had  struggled  with  the  lingerings  of  life  to  exe 
cute  his  mission.  As  the  prince  bent  with  grief  over  this 
gentle  martyr  to  fidelity,  he  beheld  a  chain  of  pearls  round 
his  neck,  attached  to  which,  beneath  his  wing,  was  a  small 
enamelled  picture.  It  represented  a  lovely  princess  in  the 
very  flower  of  her  years.  It  was,  doubtless,  the  unknown 
beauty  of  the  garden :  but  who  and  where  was  she — how  had 
she  received  his  letter — and  was  this  picture  sent  as  a  token 
of  an  approval  of  his  passion?  Unfortunately,  the  death  of 
the  faithful  dove  left  every  thing  in  mystery  and  doubt. 

The  prince  gazed  on  the  picture  tUl  his  eyes  swam  with 
tears.  He  pressed  it  to  his  h'ps  and  to  his  heart ;  he  sat  for 
hours  contemplating  it  in  an  almost  agony  of  tenderness. 
"Beautiful  image!"  said  he.  "Alas,  thou  art  but  an  image. 
Yet  thy  dewy  eyes  beam  tenderly-  upon  me ;  those  rosy  lips 
look  as  though  they  would  speak  encouragement.  Vain  faa- 


140  THE  ALHAMBRA. 

cies '  Have  they  not  looked  the  same  on  some  more  happy 
rival?  But  where  in  this  wide  world  shall  I  hope  to  find  the 
original?  Who  knows  what  mountains,  what  realms  may 
separate  us?  What  adverse  chance  may  intervene?  Perhaps 
now,  even  now,  lovers  may  be  crowding  around  her,  while  I 
sit  here,  a  prisoner  in  a  tower,  wasting  my  time  in  adoration 
of  a  painted  shadow." 

The  resolution  of  prince  Ahmed  was  taken.  "I  will  fly  from 
this  palace,"  said  he,  "which  has  become  an  odious  prison,  and, 
a  pilgrim  of  love,  will  seek  this  unknown  princess  throughout 
the  world." 

To  escape  from  the  cower  in  the  day,  when  every  one  was 
awake,  might  be  a  difficult  matter;  but  at  night  the  palace 
was  slightly  guarded,  for  no  one  apprehended  any  attempt  of 
the  kind  from  the  prince,  who  had  always  been  so  passive  in 
his  captivity.  How  was  he  to  guide  himself,  however,  in  his 
darkling  flight,  being  ignorant  of  the  country?  He  bethought 
biTn  of  the  owl,  who  was  accustomed  to  roam  at  night,  and 
must  know  every  by-lane  and  secret  pass.  Seeking  him  in  his 
hermitage,  he  questioned  him  touching  his  knowledge  of  the 
land.  Upon  this  the  owl  put  on  a  mighty  self-important  look. 

"  You  must  know,  0  prince,"  said  he,  "that  we  owls  are  of 
a  very  ancient  and  extensive  family,  though  rather  fallen  to 
decay,  and  possess  ruinous  castles  and  palaces  in  all  parts  of 
Spain.  There  is  scarcely  a  tower  of  the  mountains,  or  fortress 
of  the  plains,  or  an  old  citadel  of  a  city  but  has  some  brother, 
or  uncle,  or  cousin  quartered  in  it;  and  in  going  the  rounds 
to  visit  these  my  numerous  kindred  I  have  pryed  into  every 
nook  and  corner,  and  made  myself  acquainted  with  every 
secret  of  the  land. " 

The  prince  was  overjoyed  to  find  the  owl  so  deeply  versed 
in  topography,  and  now  informed  him,  in  confidence,  of  hid 
tender  passion  and  his  intended  elopement,  urging  him  to  be 
his  companion  and  counsellor. 

"Go  to!"  said  the  owl,  with  a  look  of  displeasure.  "Am  I 
a  bird  to  engage  in  a  love  affair;  I  whose  whole  time  is  devoted 
to  meditation  and  the  moon!" 

"Be  not  offended,  most  solemn  owl!"  replied  the  prince. 
"Abstract  thyself  for  a  time  from  meditation  and  the  moon, 
and  aid  me  in  my  flight,  and  thou  shalt  have  whatever  heart 
can  wish." 

"I  have  that  already,"  said  the  owl.  "A  few  mice  are  suffi 
cient  for  my  frugal  table,  and  this  hole  in  the  wall  is  spacioua 


LEGEND  OF  PRINCE  AHMED  AL  KAMEL.         HI 

enough  for  my  studies,  and  what  more  does  a  philosopher  like 
myself  desire?" 

"Bethink  thee,  most  wise  owl,  that  while  moping  in  thy  cell 
and  gazing  at  the  moon  all  thy  talents  are  lost  to  the  world.  I 
shall  one  day  be  a  sovereign  prince,  and  may  advance  thee  to 
some  post  of  honour  and  dignity." 

The  owl,  though  a  philosopher  and  above  the  ordinary 
wants  of  life,  was  not  above  ambition,  so  he  was  finally  pre 
vailed  upon  to  elope  with  the  prince,  and  be  his  guide  and 
llontor  in  his  pilgrimage. 

The  plans  of  a  lover  are  promptly  executed.  The  prince  col 
lected  all  his  jewels,  and  concealed  them  about  his  person  as 
travelling  funds.  That  very  night  he  lowered  himself  by  his 
scarf  from  a  balcony  of  the  tower,  clambered  over  the  outer 
walls  of  the  Generaliffe,  and,  guided  by  the  owl,  made  good  his 
escape  before  morning  to  the  mountains. 

He  now  held  a  council  with  his  Mentor  as  to  his  future 
course. 

"  Might  I  advise,"  said  the  owl,  "I  would  recommend  you 
k,  repair  to  Seville.  You  must  know  that  many  years  since  I 
was  on  a  visit  to  an  uncle,  an  owl  of  great  dignity  and  power, 
who  lived  in  a  ruined  wing  of  the  Alcazar  of  that  place.  In 
my  hoverings  at  night  over  the  city,  I  frequently  remarked  a 
light  burning  in  a  lonely  tower.  At  length  I  alighted  on  the 
battlements,  and  found  it  to  proceed  from  the  lamp  of  an  Ara 
bian  magician.  He  was  surrounded  by  his  magic  books,  and 
on  his  shoulder  was  perched  his  familiar,  an  ancient  raven, 
who  had  come  with  him  from  Egypt.  I  became  acquainted 
with  that  raven,  and  owe  to  him  a  great  part  of  the  know 
ledge  I  possess.  The  magician  is  since  dead,  but  the  raven 
still  inhabits  the  tower,  for  these  birds  are  of  wonderful  long 
life.  I  would  advise  you,  O  prince,  to  seek  that  raven,  for 
he  is  a  soothsayer  and  a  conjuror,  and  deals  in  the  black  art, 
for  which  all  ravens,  and  especially  those  of  Egypt,  are  re 
nowned." 

The  prince  was  struck  with  the  wisdom  of  this  advice,  and 
accordingly  bent  his  course  towards  Seville.  He  travelled 
only  in  the  night,  to  accommodate  his  companion,  and  lay  by 
during  ihe  day  in  some  dark  cavern  or  mouldering  watch- 
to  wer^er;  the  owl  knew  every  hiding  hole  of  the  kind  in  the 
country,  and  had  a  most  antiquarian  taste  for  ruins. 

At  length,  one  morning  at  day -break,  they  reached  the  city 
of  Seville,  where  the  owl,  who  hated  the  glare  and  bustle  of 


148  TI1K  ALHAMBRA. 

crowded  streets,  halted  without  the  gate,  and  took  up  nil 
quarters  in  a  hollow  troe. 

The  prince  entered  the  gate,  and  readily  found  the  magic 
tower,  which  rose  above  the  houses  of  the  city  as  a  palm-tree 
rises  above  the  shrubs  of  the  desert.  It  was,  in  fact,  the  same 
tower  known  at  the  present  day  as  the  Giralda,  the  famous 
Moorish  tower  of  Seville. 

The  prince  ascended  by  a  great  winding  staircase  to  the 
summit  of  the  tower,  where  he  found  the  cabalistic  raven,  an 
old,  mysterious,  gray-headed  bird,  ragged  in  feather,  with  a 
film  over  one  eye  that  gave  him  the  glare  of  a  spectre.  He 
was  perched  on  one  leg,  with  his  head  turned  on  one  side,  and 
poring  with  his  remaining  eye  on  a  diagram  described  on  the 
pavement. 

The  prince  approached  him  with  the  awe  and  reverence 
naturally  inspired  by  his  venerable  appearance  and  super 
natural  wisdom.  "  Pardon  me,  most  ancient  and  darkly  wise 
raven,"  exclaimed  he,  "if  for  a  moment  I  interrupt  those 
studies  which  are  the  wonder  of  the  world.  You  behold  before 
you  a  votary  of  love,  who  would  fain  seek  counsel  how  to  ob 
tain  the  object  of  his  passion." 

"In  other  words,"  said  the  raven,  with  a  significant  look, 
"  you  seek  to  try  my  skill  in  palmistry.  Come,  show  me  your 
hand,  and  let  me  decipher  the  mysterious  lines  of  fortune." 

"Excuse  me,"  said  the  prince,  "  I  come  not  to  pry  into  the 
decrees  of  fate,  which  are  hidden  by  Allah  from  the  eyes  of 
mortals.  I  am  a  pilgrim  of  love,  and  seek  but  to  find  a  clue  to 
the  object  of  my  pilgrimage." 

"And  can  you  be  at  any  loss  for  an  object  in  amorous 
Andalusia?"  said  the  old  raven,  leering  upon  him  with  his 
single  eye.  "Above  all,  can  you  be  at  a  loss  in  wanton  Seville, 
where  black-eyed  damsels  dance  the  zambra  under  every 
orange  grove?" 

The  prince  blushed,  and  was  somewhat  shocked  at  hearing 
an  old  bird,  with  one  foot  in  the  grave,  talk  thus  loosely. 
" Believe  me,"  said  he  gravely,  "I  am  on  none  such  light  and 
vagrant  errand  as  thou  dost  insinuate.  The  black-eyed  dam 
sels  of  Andalusia  who  dance  among  the  orange  groves  of  the 
Guadalquiver,  are  as  naught  to  me.  I  seek  one  unknown  but 
immaculate  beauty,  the  original  of  this  picture,  and  I  beseech 
thee,  most  potent  raven,  if  it  be  within  the  scope  of  thy  know 
ledge,  or  the  reach  of  thy  art,  inform  me  where  she  may  b« 
found." 


LEGEND  OF  PRINCE  AHMED  AL  KAMEL.         143 

The  gray-headed  raven  was  rebuked  by  the  gravity  of  the 
prince.  "What  know  I,"  replied  he  dryly,  "of  youth  and 
beauty?  My  visits  are  to  the  old  and  withered,  not  the  young 
and  fair.  The  harbinger  of  fate  am  I,  who  croak  bodings  of 
death  from  the  chimney  top,  and  flap  my  wings  at  the  sick 
man's  window.  You  must  seek  elsewhere  for  tidings  of  your 
unknown  beauty." 

"And  where  ara  I  to  seek,  if  not  among  the  sons  of  wisdom, 
versed  in  the  book  of  destiny?  A  royal  prince  am  I,  fated  by 
the  stars,  and  sent  on  a  mysterious  enterprise,  on  which  may 
hang  the  destiny  of  empires." 

When  the  raven  heard  that  it  was  a  matter  of  vast  moment, 
In  which  the  stars  took  interest,  he  changed  his  tone  and 
manner,  and  listened  with  profound  attention  to  the  story  of 
the  prince.  When  it  was  concluded,  he  replied,  "Touching 
this  princess,  I  can  give  thee  no  information  of  myself,  for  my 
flight  is  not  among  gardens  or  around  ladies'  bowers;  but  hie 
thee  to  Cordova,  seek  the  palm-tree  of  the  great  Abderahman, 
which  stands  in  the  court  of  the  principal  mosque ;  at  the  foot 
of  it  you  will  find  a  great  traveller,  who  has  visited  all  coun 
tries  and  courts,  and  been  a  favourite  with  queens  and  prin 
cesses.  He  will  give  you  tidings  of  the  object  of  your 
search. " 

"Many  thanks  for  this  precious  information,"  said  the 
prince.  "Farewell,  most  venerable  conjuror." 

"Farewell,  pilgrim  of  love,"  said  the  raven  dryly,  and  again 
fell  to  pondering  on  the  diagram. 

The  prince  sallied  forth  from  Seville,  sought  his  fellow- 
traveller  the  owl,  who  was  still  dozing  in  the  hollow  tree,  and 
ret  off  for  Cordova. 

He  approached  it  along  hanging  gardens,  and  orange  and 
citron  groves  overlooking  the  fair  valley  of  the  Guadalquiver. 
When  arrived  at  its  gates,  the  owl  flew  up  to  a  dark  hole  in 
the  wall,  and  the  prince  proceeded  in  quest  of  the  palm-tree 
planted  in  days  of  yore  by  the  great  Abderahman.  It  stood  in 
the  midst  of  the  great  court  of  the  Mosque,  towering  from 
amidst  orange  and  cypress  trees.  Dervises  and  Faquirs  were 
seated  in  groups  under  the  cloisters  of  the  court,  and  many  of 
the  faithful  were  performing  their  ablutions  at  the  fountains, 
before  entering  the  Mosque. 

At  the  foot  of  the  palm-tree  was  a  crowd  listening  to  the 
words  of  one  who  appeared  to  be  talking  with  great  volubility. 
This,  said  the  prince  to  himself,  must  be  the  great  trayeller 


144  2~"  ALUAXlSliA. 

who  is  to  give  me  tidings  of  the  unknown  princess.  He 
mingled  in  the  crowd,  but  was  astonished  to  perceive  that 
they  were  all  listening  to  a  parrot,  who,  with  his  bright  green 
coat,  pragmatical  eye,  and  consequential  topknot,  had  the  air 
of  a  bird  on  excellent  terms  with  himself. 

"How  is  this,"  said  the  prince  to  one  of  the  bystanders, 
'  that  so  many  grave  persons  can  be  delighted  with  the  garrul 
ity  of  a  chattering  bird?" 

"  You  know  not  of  whom  you  speak,"  said  the  other;  "this 
parrot  is  a  descendant  of  the  famous  parrot  of  Persia,  renowned 
for  his  story-telling  talent.  He  has  all  the  learning  of  the  East 
at  the  tip  of  his  tongue,  and  can  quote  poetry  as  fast  as  he  can 
talk.  He  has  visited  various  foreign  courts,  where  he  has  been 
considered  an  oracle  of  erudition.  He  has  been  a  universal 
favourite  also  with  the  fair  sex,  who  have  a  vast  admiration 
for  erudite  parrots  that  can  quote  poetry." 

"Enough,"  said  the  prince,  "I  will  have  some  private  talk 
with  this  distinguished  traveller." 

He  sought  a  private  interview,  and  expounded  the  nature  of 
his  errand.  He  had  scarcely  mentioned  it  when  the  parrot 
burst  into  a  fit  of  dry  rickety  laughter,  that  absolutely  brought 
tears  in  his  eyes.  "  Excuse  my  mirth,"  said  he,  "  but  the  mere 
mention  of  love  always  sets  me  laughing." 

The  prince  was  shocked  at  this  ill-timed  merriment.  "  Is 
not  love,"  said  he,  "the  great  mystery  of  nature, — the  secret 
principle  of  life, — the  universal  bond  of  sympathy?" 

' '  A  fig's  end !"  cried  the  parrot,  interrupting  him.  ' '  Pry'thee 
where  hast  thou  learnt  this  sentimental  jargon?  Trust  me, 
love  is  quite  out  of  vogue ;  one  never  hears  of  it  in  the  company 
of  wits  and  people  of  refinement." 

The  prince  sighed  as  he  recalled  the  different  language  of  his 
friend  the  dove.  But  this  parrot,  thought  he,  has  lived  about 
court ;  he  affects  the  wit  and  the  fine  gentleman ;  he  knowa 
nothing  of  the  thing  called  love. 

Unwilling  to  provoke  any  more  ridicule  of  the  sentiment 
which  filled  his  heart,  he  now  directed  his  inquiries  to  the 
immediate  purport  of  his  visit. 

"Tell  me, "said  he,  "most  accomplished  parrot,  thou  who 
hast  every  where  been  admitted  to  the  most  secret  bowers  of 
beauty,  hast  thou  in  the  course  of  thy  travels  met  with  the 
original  of  this  portrait?" 

The  parrot  took  the  picture  in  his  claw,  turned  his  head  from 
side  to  side,  and  examined  it  curiouslv  with  either  eye.  "  Upon 


LS!GK2fD  OF  PRINCE  AHMED  AL  RAMEL.         145 

my  honour,"  said  he,  "a  very  pretty  face;  very  pretty.  But 
then  one  sees  so  many  pretty  women  in  one's  travels  that  one 
can  hardly — but  hold — bless  me !  now  I  look  at  it  again — sure 
enough,  this  is  the  princess  Aldegonda:  how  could  I  forget  one 
that  is  so  prodigious  a  favourite  with  me?" 

"  The  princess  Aldegonda!"  echoed  the  prince,  "and  where  is 
she  to  be  found?" 

"Softly — softly,"  said  the  parrot,  "easier  to  be  found  than 
gained.  She  is  the  only  daughter  of  the  Christian  king  who 
reigns  at  Toledo,  and  is  shut  up  from  the  world  until  her 
seventeenth  birth-day,  on  account  of  some  prediction  of  those 
meddlesome  fellows,  the  astrologers.  You'll  not  get  a  sight  of 
her,  no  mortal  man  can  see  her.  I  was  admitted  to  her  pres 
ence  to  entertain  her,  and  I  assure  you,  on  the  word  of  a  parrot 
who  has  seen  the  world,  I  have  conversed  with  much  silh'e? 
princesses  in  my  time." 

"A  word  in  confidence,  my  dear  parrot,"  said  the  prince. 

'  I  am  heir  to  a  kingdom,  and  shall  one  day  sit  upon  a  throne. 

I  see  that  you  are  a  bird  of  parts  and  understood  the  word. 

Help  me  to  gain  possession  of  this  princess  and  I  will  advance 

you  to  some  distinguished  post  about  court." 

"  With  all  my  heart,"  said  the  parrot ;  "  but  let  it  be  a  sine- 
cure  if  possible,  for  we  wits  have  a  great  dislike  to  labour." 

Arrangements  were  promptly  made ;  the  prince  sallied  forth 
from  Cordova  through  the  same  gate  by  which  he  had  entered ; 
called  the  owl  down  from  the  hole  in  the  wall,  introduced  him 
to  his  new  travelling  companion  as  a  brother  scavant,  and  away 
they  set  off  on  their  journey. 

They  travelled  much  more  slowly  than  accorded  with  the 
impatience  of  the  prince,  but  the  parrot  was  accustomed  to 
high  life,  and  did  not  like  to  be  disturbed  early  in  the  morning. 
The  owl,  on  tjie  other  hand,  was  for  sleeping  at  mid-day,  and 
lost  a  great  deal  of  time  by  his  long  siestas.  His  antiquarian 
taste  also  was  in  the  way ;  for  he  insisted  on  pausing  and  in 
specting  every  ruin,  and  had  long  legendary  tales  to  tell  about 
every  old  tower  and  castle  in  the  country.  The  prince  had 
supposed  that  he  and  the  parrot,  being  both  birds  of  learning, 
could  delight  in  each  other's  society,  but  never  had  he  been 
more  mistaken.  They  were  eternally  bickering.  The  one  was 
a  wit,  the  other  a  philosopher.  The  parrot  quoted  poetry,  was 
critical  on  new  readings,  and  eloquent  on  small  points  of  eru 
dition;  the  owl  treated  all  such  knowledge  as  trifling,  and 
relished  nothing  but  metaphysics.  Then  the  parrot  would  sing 


146  THE  ALHAMBRA. 

songs  and  repeat  bon  mots,  and  crack  jokes  upon  his  solemn 
neighbour,  and  laugh  outrageously  at  his  own  wit ;  all  which 
the  owl  considered  a  grievous  invasion  of  his  dignity,  and 
would  scowl,  and  sulk,  and  swell,  and  sit  silent  for  a  whole  day 
together. 

The  prince  heeded  not  the  wranglings  of  his  companions, 
» being  wrapped  up  in  the  dreams  of  his  own  fancy,  and  the 
contemplation  of  the  portrait  of  the  beautiful  princess.  In  this 
way  they  journeyed  through  the  stern  passes  of  the  Sierra  Mo- 
rena,  across  the  sunburnt  plains  of  La  Mancha  and  Castile,  and 
along  the  banks  of  the  "  Golden  Tagus,"  which  winds  its  wizard 
mazes  over  one-half  of  Spain  and  Portugal.  At  length,  they 
came  in  sight  of  a  strong  city  with  walls  and  towers,  built  on 
a  rocky  promontory,  round  the  foot  of  which  the  Tagus  circled 
with  brawling  violence. 

"Behold,"  exclaimed  the  owl,  "the  ancient  and  renowned 
city  of  Toledo ;  a  city  famous  for  its  antiquities.  Behold  those 
venerable  domes  and  towers,  hoary  with  time,  and  clothed 
with  legendary  grandeur ;  in  which  so  many  of  my  ancestors 
have  meditated — " 

"  Pish,"  cried  the  parrot,  interrupting  his  solemn  antiquarian 
rapture,  "what  have  we  to  do  with  antiquities,  and  legends, 
and  your  ancestors?  Behold,  what  is  more  to  the  purpose,  be 
hold  the  abode  of  youth  and  "beauty, — behold,  at  length,  oh 
prince,  the  abode  of  your  long  sought  princess." 

The  prince  looked  in  the  direction  indicated  by  the  parrot, 
and  behold,  in  a  delightful  green  meadow  on  the  banks  of  tho 
Tagus,  a  stately  palace  rising  from  amidst  the  bowers  of  a 
delicious  garden.  It  was  just  such  a  place  as  had  been  de 
scribed  by  the  dove  as  the  residence  of  the  original  of  the  pic 
ture.  He  gazed  at  it  with  a  throbbing  heart:  "  Perhaps  at 
this  moment,"  thought  he,  "the  beautiful  princess  is  sporting 
beneath  those  shady  bowers,  or  pacing  with  delicate  step  those 
stately  terraces,  or  reposing  beneath  those  lofty  roofs !"  As  he 
looked  more  narrowly,  he  perceived  that  the  walls  of  the  gar 
den  wore  of  great  height,  so  as  to  defy  access,  while  numbers 
of  armed  guards  patrolled  around  them. 

The  prince  turned  to  the  parrot.  "  Oh  most  accomplished  of 
birds,"  said  he,  "thou  hast  the  gift  of  human  speech.  Hio 
thee  to  yon  garden;  seek  the  idol  of  my  sorl.  and  tell  her  that 
prince  Ahmed,  a  pilgrim  of  love,  and  guided  by  the  stars,  has 
arrived  in  quest  of  her  on  the  flowery  banks  of  the  Tagus." 

The  parrot,  proud  of  hi«  embassy,  flew  away  to  the  garden 


LEGEND  OF  PRINCE  AHMED  AL  KAMEL.         147 

mounted  above  its  lofty  walls,  and,  after  soaring  for  a  time 
over  the  lawns  and  groves,  alighted  on  the  balcony  of  a 
pavilion  that  overhung  the  river.  Here,  looking  in  at  the 
casement,  he  beheld  the  princess  reclining  on  a  couch,  with  he* 
eyes  fixed  on  a  paper,  while  tears  gently  stole  after  each  othen 
down  her  pallid  cheek. 

Pluming  his  wings  for  a  moment,  adjusting  his  bright  green 
coat,  and  elevating  his  topknot,  the  parrot  perched  himself 
beside  her  with  a  gallant  air ;  then  assuming  a  tenderness  of 
tone, — 

"Dry  thy  tears,  most  beautiful  of  princesses,"  said  he,  "I 
come  to  bring  solace  to  thy  heart." 

The  princess  was  startled  on  hearing  a  voice,  but  turning 
and  seeing  nothing  but  a  little  green-coated  bird  bobbing  and 
bowing  before  her:— "Alas!  what  solace  canst  thou  yield," 
said  she,  "  seeing  thou  art  but  a  parrot?" 

The  parrot  was  nettled  at  the  question.  "  I  have  consoled 
many  beautiful  ladies  in  my  time, "  said  he ;  "  but  let  that  pass. 
At  present,  I  come  ambassador  from  a  royal  prince.  Know 
that  Ahmed,  the  prince  of  Granada,  has  arrived  in  quest  of 
thee,  and  is  encamped  even  now  on  the  flowery  banks  of  the 
Tagus." 

The  eyes  of  the  beautiful  princess  sparkled  at  these  words, 
even  brighter  than  the  diamonds  in  her  coronet.  "  O  sweetest 
of  parrots,"  cried  she,  "joyful  indeed  are  thy  tidings;  for  I 
was  faint,  and  weary,  and  sick  almost  unto  death,  with  doubt 
of  the  constancy  of  Ahmed.  Hie  thee  back,  and  tell  him  that 
the  words  of  his  letter  are  engraven  in  my  heart,  and  his 
poetry  has  been  the  food  of  my  soul.  Tell  him,  however,  that 
he  must  prepare  to  prove  his  love  by  force  of  arms ;  to-morrow 
is  my  seventeenth  birth-day,  when  the  king,  my  father,  holds 
a  great  tournament ;  several  princes  are  to  enter  the  lists,  and 
my  hand  is  to  be  the  prize  of  the  victor." 

The  parrot  again  took  wing,  and,  rustling  through  the  groves, 
flew  back  to  where  the  prince  awaited  his  return.  The  rapture 
of  Ahmed  on  finding  the  original  of  his  adored  portrait,  and 
finding  her  kind  and  true,  can  only  be  conceived  by  those 
favoured  mortals,  who  have  had  the  good  fortune  to  realize  day 
drearas,  and  turn  shadows  into  substance.  Still  there  was  one 
thing  that  alloyed  his  transport, — this  impending  tournament. 
In  fact,  the  banks  of  the  Tagus  were  already  glittering  with 
arms,  and  resounding  with  trumpets  of  the  various  knights, 
Vho  wi^Jr;  proud  retinues  were  Drancing  on  towards  Toledo  to 


148  2!fl»  ALHAMURA. 

attend  the  ceremonial.  The  same  star  that  had  controlled  thft 
destiny  of  the  prince,  had  governed  that  of  the  princess,  and 
until  her  seventeenth  birth-day,  she  had  been  shut  up  from 
the  world,  to  guard  her  from  the  tender  passion.  The  fame  of 
her  charms,  however,  had  been  enhanced,  rather  than  obscured 
by  this  seclusion.  Several  powerful  princes  had  contended  for 
her  alliance,  and  her  father,  who  was  a  king  of  wondrous 
shrewdness,  to  avoid  making  enemies  by  showing  partiality, 
had  referred  them  to  the  arbitrament  of  arms.  Among  tho 
rival  candidates,  were  several  renowned  for  strength  and 
prowess.  What  a  predicament  for  the  unfortunate  Ahmed, 
unprovided  as  he  was  with  weapons,  and  unskilled  in  the  exer 
cises  of  chivalry.  "Luckless  prince  that  I  am!"  said  he,  "to 
have  been  brought  up  in  seclusion,  under  the  eye  of  a  philoso 
pher!  of  what  avail  are  algebra  and  philosophy  in  affairs  of 
love !  alas,  Ebon  Bonabbon,  why  hast  thou  neglected  to  instruct 
me  in  the  management  of  arms?"  Upon  this  the  owl  broke 
silence  prefacing  his  harangue  with  a  pious  ejaculation,  for  he 
was  a  devout  Mussulman: 

"Allah  Achbar!  'God  is  great,'"  exclaimed  he,  "in  his 
hands  are  all  secret  things,  he  alone  governs  the  destiny  of 
princes !  Know,  O  prince,  that  this  land  is  full  of  mysteries, 
hidden  from  all  but  those  who,  like  myself,  can  grope  after 
knowledge  in  the  dark.  Know  that  in  the  neighbouring  moun 
tains  there  is  a  cave,  and  in  that  cave  there  is  an  iron  table, 
ajnd  on  that  table  lies  a  suit  of  magic  armour,  and  beside  that 
table  stands  a  spell-bound  steed,  which  have  been  shut  up  there 
for  many  generations." 

The  prince  stared  with  wonder,  while  the  owl  blinking  his 
huge  round  eyes  and  erecting  his  horns  proceeded : 

"Many  years  since,  I  accompanied  my  father  to  these  parts 
on  a  tour  of  his  estates,  and  we  sojourned  in  that  cave,  and 
thus  became  I  acquainted  with  the  mystery.  It  is  a  tradition 
in  our  family,  which  I  have  heard  from  my  grandfather  when 
I  was  yet  but  a  very  little  owlet,  that  this  armour  belonged  to 
a  Moorish  magician,  who  took  refuge  in  this  cavern  when 
Toledo  was  captured  by  the  Christians,  and  died  here,  leaving 
his  steed  and  weapons  under  a  mystic  spell,  never  to  be  used 
but  by  a  Moslem,  and  by  him  only  from  sunrise  to  mid-day. 
In  that  interval,  whoever  uses  them,  will  overthrow  every 
opponent." 

"  Enough,  let  us  seek  this  cave,"  exclaimed  Ahmed. 

Guided   by  his   legendarv  Mentor,  the   prince   found  the 


LEGEND  OF  PRINCE  AHMED  AL  KAMEL.         149 

cavcm,  which  was  in  one  of  the  wildest  recesses  of  those  rocky 
cliffs  which  rose  around  Toledo ;  none  but  the  mousing  eye  of 
an  owl  or  an  antiquary  could  have  discovered  the  entrance  to 
it.  A  sepulchral  lamp  of  everlasting  oil  shed  a  solemn  light 
through  the  place.  On  an  iron  table  in  the  centre  of  the 
cavern  lay  the  magic  armour,  against  it  leaned  the  lance,  and 
beside  it  stood  an  Arabian  steed,  caparisoned  for  the  field,  but 
motionless  as  a  statue.  The  armour  was  bright  and  unsullied, 
as  it  had  gleamed  in  days  of  old;  the  steed  in  as  good  con 
dition  as  if  just  from  the  pasture,  and  when  Ahmed  laid  his 
hand  upon  his  neck,  he  pawed  the  ground  and  gave  a  loud 
neigh  of  joy  that  shook  the  walls  of  the  cavern.  Thus  pro 
vided  with  horse  to  ride  and  weapon  to  wear,  the  prince  de 
termined  to  defy  the  field  at  the  impending  tourney. 

The  eventful  morning  arrived.  The  lists  for  the  combat 
were  prepared  in  the  Vega  or  plain  just  below  the  cliff -built 
walls  of  Toledo.  Here  were  erected  stages  and  galleries  for 
the  spectators,  covered  with  rich  tapestry  and  sheltered  from 
the  sun  by  silken  awnings.  All  the  beauties  of  the  land  were 
assembled  in  those  galleries,  while  below  pranced  plumed 
knights  with  their  pages  and  esquires,  among  whom  figured 
conspicuously  the  princes  who  were  to  contend  in  the  tourney. 
All  the  beauties  of  the  land,  however,  were  eclipsed,  when  the 
princess  Aldegonda  appeared  in  the  royal  pavilion,  and  for 
the  first  time  broke  forth  upon  the  gaze  of  an  admiring  world. 
A  murmur  of  wonder  ran  through  the  crowd  at  her  transcend- 
ant  loveliness ;  and  the  princes  who  were  candidates  for  her 
hand  merely  on  the  faith  of  her  reported  charms,  now  felt  ten 
fold  ardour  for  the  conflict. 

The  princess,  however,  had  a  troubled  look.  The  colour 
came  and  went  from  her  cheek,  and  her  eye  wandered  with  a 
restless  and  unsatisfied  expression  over  the  plumed  throng  of 
knights.  The  trumpets  were  about  sounding  for  the  encounter 
when  a  herald  announced  the  arrival  of  a  stranger  knight,  and 
Ahmed  rode  into  the  field.  A  steeled  helmet  studded  with 
gems  rose  above  his  turban;  his  cuirass  was  embossed  with 
gold ;  his  scimitar  and  dagger  were  of  the  workmanship  of 
Fay,  and  flamed  with  precious  stones.  A  round  shield  was  at 
his  shoulder,  and  in  his  hand  he  bore  the  lance  of  charmed 
virtue.  The  caparison  of  his  Arabian  was  richly  embroidered, 
arid  swept  the  ground;  and  the  proud  animal  pranced  and 
snuffed  the  air,  and  neighed  with  joy  at  once  more  beholding 
tho  array  of  arms.  The  lofty  and  graceful  demeanour  of  the 


150  THE  ALHAMBRA. 

prince  struck  every  eye,  and  when  his  appellation  w««  an 
nouKced,  "  The  pilgrim  of  love,"  a  universal  flutter  and  agita 
tion  prevailed  amongst  the  fair  dames  in  the  galleries. 

When  Ahmed  presented  himself  at  the  lists,  however,  thej 
were  closed  against  him ;  none  but  princes,  he  was  told,  were 
admitted  to  the  contest.  He  declared  his  name  and  rank.  Still 
worse,  he  was  a  Moslem,  and  could  not  engage  in  a  tourney 
•where  the  hand  of  a  Christian  princess  was  the  prize. 

The  rival  princes  surrounded  him  with  haughty  and  men' 
acing  aspects,  and  one  of  insolent  demeanour  and  Herculean 
frame  sneered  at  his  light  and  youthful  form,  and  scoft'ed  at 
his  amorous  appellation.  The  ire  of  the  prince  was  roused ;  he 
defied  his  rival  to  the  encounter.  They  took  distance,  wheeled, 
and  charged ;  at  the  first  touch  of  the  magic  lance  the  brawny 
scoffer  was  tilted  from  his  saddle.  Here  the  prince  would  have 
paused,  but  alas !  he  had  to  deal  with  a  demoniac  horse  and 
armor:  once  in  action,  nothing  could  control  them.  The 
Arabian  steed  charged  into  the  thickest  of  the  throng:  the 
lance  overturned  every  thing  that  presented;  the  gentle  prince 
was  carried  pell-mell  about  the  field,  strewing  it  with  high  and 
low,  gentle  and  simple,  and  grieving  at  his  own  involuntary 
exploits.  The  king  stormed  and  raged  at  this  outrage  on  his 
subjects  and  his  guests.  He  ordered  out  all  his  guards — they 
were  unhorsed  as  fast  as  they  came  up.  The  king  threw  off  his 
robes,  grasped  buckler  and  lance,  and  rode  forth  to  awe  the 
stranger  with  the  presence  of  majesty  itself.  Alas,  majesty 
fared  no  better  than  the  vulgar;  the  steed  and  lance  were  no 
respecters  of  persons;  to  the  dismay  of  Ahmed,  he  was  borne 
full  tilt  against  the  king,  and  in  a  moment  the  royal  heels  were 
in  the  air,  and  the  crown  was  rolling  in  the  dust. 

At  this  moment  the  sun  reached  the  meridian;  the  magic 
»pell  resumed  its  power.  The  Arabian  steed  scoured  across  the 
plain,  leaped  the  barrier,  plunged  into  the  Tagus,  swam  its 
raging  current,  bore  the  prince,  breathless  and  amazed,  to  the 
cavern,  and  resumed  his  station  like  a  statue  beside  the  iron 
table.  The  prince  dismounted  right  gladly,  and  replaced  the 
armor,  to  abide  the  further  decrees  of  fate.  Then  seating  him 
self  in  the  cavern,  he  ruminated  on  the  desperate  state  to 
which  this  bedeviled  [steed  and  armor  had  reduced  him. 
Never  should  he  dare  to  show  his  face  at  Toledo,  after  inflict 
ing  such  disgrace  upon  its  chivalry,  and  such  an  outrage  on 
its  king.  "What,  too,  would  the  princess  think  of  so  rude  and 
riotous  an  achievement!  Full  of  anxiety,  he  sent  forth  hii 


winged  messengers  to  gather  tidings.  The  parrot  resorted  to 
all  the  public  places  and  crowded  resorts  of  the  city,  and 
soon  returned  with  a  world  of  gossip.  All  Toledo  was  in  con 
sternation.  The  princess  had  been  borne  off  senseless  to  the 
palace ;  the  tournament  had  ended  in  confusion ;  every  one  was 
talking  of  the  sudden  apparition,  prodigious  exploits,  and 
strange  disappearance  of  the  Moslem  knight.  Some  pro 
nounced  him  a  Moorish  magician ;  others  thought  him  a  demon 
who  had  assumed  a  human  shape ;  while  others  related  tradi 
tions  of  enchanted  warriors  hidden  in  the  caves  of  the  moun 
tains,  and  thought  it  might  be  one  of  these,  who  had  made  a 
sudden  irruption  from  his  den.  All  agreed  that  no  mere  ordi 
nary  mortal  could  have  wrought  such  wonders,  or  unhorsed 
such  accomplished  and  stalwart  Christian  warriors. 

The  owl  flew  forth  at  night,  and  hovered  about  the  dusky 
city,  perching  on  the  roofs  and  chimneys.  He  then  wheeled 
his  flight  up  to  the  royal  palace,  which  stood  on  the  rocky 
summit  of  Toledo,  and  went  prowling  about  its  terraces  and 
battlements,  eaves-dropping  at  every  cranny,  and  glaring  in 
with  his  big  goggling  eyes  at  every  window  where  there  was  a 
light,  so  as  to  throw  two  or  three  maids  of  honour  into  fits.  It 
was  not  until  the  gray  dawn  began  to  peer  above  the  moun 
tains  that  he  returned  from  his  mousing  expedition,  and  re 
lated  to  the  prince  what  he  had  seen. 

"  As  I  was  prying  about  one  of  the  loftiest  towers  of  the  pal 
ace,"  said  he,  "I  beheld  through  a  casement  a  beautiful  prin 
cess.  She  was  reclining  on  a  couch,  with  attendants  and  phy 
sicians  around  her,  but  she  would  none  of  their  ministry  and 
relief.  When  they  retired,  I  beheld  her  draw  forth  a  letter 
from  her  bosom,  and  read,  and  kiss  it,  and  give  way  to  loud 
lamentations;  at  which,  philosopher  as  I  am,  I  could  not  but 
be  greatly  moved." 

The  tender  heart  of  Ahmed  was  distressed  at  these  tidings. 
"  Too  true  were  thy  words,  oh  sage  Ebon  Bonabbon !"  cried  he. 
"Care  and  sorrow,  and  sleepless  nights  are  the  lot  of  lovers. 
Allah  preserve  the  princess  from  the  blighting  influence  of  this 
thing  called  love." 

Further  intelligence  from  Toledo  corroborated  the  report  of 
the  owl.  The  city  was  a  prey  to  uneasiness  and  alarm.  The 
princess  was  conveyed  to  the  highest  tower  of  the  palace,  everj 
avenue  to  which  was  strongly  guarded.  In  the  mean  time,  a 
devouring  melancholy  had  seized  upon  her,  of  which  no  one 
could  divine  the  cause.  S.he  refused  food,  and  turned  a  deaf 


152  THE  ALI1AMBRA. 

ear  to  every  consolation.  The  most  skilful  physicians  had  es 
sayed  their  art  in  vain ;  it  was  thought  some  magic  spell  had 
been  practised  upon  her,  and  the  king  made  proclamation,  de 
claring  that  whoever  should  effect  her  cure,  should  receive  the 
richest  jewel  in  the  royal  treasury. 

When  the  owl,  who  was  dozing  in  a  corner,  heard  of  this 
proclamation,  he  rolled  his  large  eyes  and  looked  more  mys 
terious  than  ever. 

"Allah  Achbar!"  exclaimed  he.  "Happy  the  man  that 
shall  effect  that  cure,  should  he  but  know  what  to  choose  from 
the  royal  treasury." 

"What  mean  you,  most  reverend  owl?"  said  Ahmed. 

••'  Hearken,  0  prince,  to  what  I  shall  relate.  We  owls,  you 
must  know,  are  a  learned  body,  and  much  given  to  dark  and 
dusty  research.  During  my  late  prowling  at  night  about  the 
domes  and  turrets  of  Toledo,  I  discovered  a  college  of  antiqua 
rian  owls,  who  hold  their  meetings  in  a  great  vaulted  tower 
where  the  royal  treasure  is  deposited.  Here  they  were  discuss 
ing  the  forms  and  inscriptions,  and  designs  of  ancient  gems  and 
jewels,  and  of  golden  and  silver  vessels,  heaped  up  in  the  trea 
sury,  the  fashion  of  every  country  and  age :  but  mostly  they 
were  interested  about  certain  reliques  and  talismans,  that  have 
remained  in  the  treasury  since  the  time  of  Roderick  the  Goth. 
Among  these,  was  a  box  of  shittim  wood,  secured  by  bands  of 
steel  of  oriental  workmanship,  and  inscribed  with  mystic 
characters  known  only  to  the  learned  few.  This  box  and  its 
inscription  had  occupied  the  college  for  several  sessions,  and 
had  caused  much  long  and  grave  dispute.  At  the  tune  of  my 
visit,  a  very  ancient  owl,  who  had  recently  arrived  from  Egypt, 
was  seated  on  the  lid  of  the  box  lecturing  upon  the  inscription, 
and  proved  from  it,  that  the  coffer  contained  the  silken  carpet 
of  the  throne  of  Solomon  the  wise :  which  doubtless  had  been 
brought  to  Toledo  by  the  Jews,  who  took  refuge  there  after  the 
downfall  of  Jerusalem." 

When  the  owl  had  concluded  his  antiquarian  harangue,  the 
prince  remained  for  a  time  absorbed  in  thought.  "I  have 
heard,"  said  he,  "from  the  sage  Ebon  Bonabbon,  of  the  won 
derful  properties  of  that  talisman,  which  disappeared  at  the 
fall  of  Jerusalem,  and  was  supposed  to  be  lost  to  mankind. 
Doubtless  it  remains  a  sealed  mystery  to  the  Christians  of 
Toledo.  If  I  can  get  possession  of  that  carpet,  my  fortune  is 
secure." 

The  next  day  the  prince  laid  aside  his  rich  attire,  and  ar- 


LEGEND   OF  PRINCE  AHMED  AL  KAMEL.         153 

rayed  himself  in  the  simple  garb  of  an  Arab  of  the  desert.  He 
dyed  his  complexion  to  a  tawny  hue,  and  no  one  could  have 
recognized  in  him  the  splendid  warrior  who  had  caused  such 
admiration  and  dismay  at  the  tournament.  With  staff  in 
hand  and  scrip  by  his  side,  and  a  small  pastoral  reed,  he  re 
paired  to  Toledo,  and  presenting  himself  at  the  gate  of  the 
royal  palace,  announced  himself  as  a  candidate  for  the  reward 
offered  for  the  cure  of  the  princess,  The  guards  would  have 
driven  him  away  with  blows :  ' '  What  can  a  vagrant  Arab  like 
thyself  pretend  to  do,"  said  they,  "in  a  case  where  the  most 
learned  of  the  land  have  failed?"  The  king,  however,  over 
heard  the  tumult,  and  ordered  the  Arab  to  be  brought  into  his 
presence. 

"Most  potent  king,"  said  Ahmed,  " you  behold  before  you  a 
Bedouin  Arab,  the  greater  part  of  whose  life  has  been  passed 
in  the  solitudes  of  the  desert.  Those  solitudes,  it  is  well 
known,  are  the  haunts  of  demons  and  evil  spirits,  who  beset 
us  poor  shepherds  in  our  lonely  watchings,  enter  into  and  pos 
sess  our  flocks  and  herds,  and  sometimes  render  even  the 
patient  camel  furious.  Against  these,  our  countercharm  is 
music ;  and  we  have  legendary  airs  handed  down  from  genera 
tion  to  generation,  that  we  chant  and  pipe  to  cast  forth  these 
evil  spirits.  I  am  of  a  gifted  line,  and  possess  this  power  in  its 
fullest  force.  If  it  be  any  evil  influence  of  the  kind  that  holds 
a  spell  over  thy  daughter,  I  pledge  my  head  to  free  her  from 
its  sway." 

The  king,  who  was  a  man  of  understanding,  and  knew  the 
wonderful  secrets  possessed  by  the  Arabs,  was  inspired  with 
hope  by  the  confident  language  of  the  prince.  He  conducted 
him  immediately  to  the  lofty  tower  secured  by  several  doors, 
in  the  summit  of  which  was  the  chamber  of  the  princess.  The 
windows  opened  upon  a  terrace  with  balustrades,  commanding 
a  view  over  Toledo  and  all  the  surrounding  country.  The  win 
dows  were  darkened,  for  the  princess  lay  within,  a  prey  to  a 
devouring  grief  that  refused  all  alleviation. 

The  prince  seated  himself  on  the  terrace,  and  performed  sev 
eral  wild  Arabian  airs  on  his  pastoral  pipe,  which  he  had  learnt 
from  his  attendants  in  the  Generaliffe  at  Granada.  The  prin 
cess  continued  insensible,  and  the  doctors,  who  were  present, 
shook  their  heads,  and  smiled  with  incredibility  and  contempt. 
At  length  the  prince  laid  aside  the  reed,  and  to  a  simple  melody 
chanted  the  amatory  verses  of  the  letter  which  had  declared 
his  passion. 


164  THE  ALIIAMBRA. 

The  princess  recognized  the  strain.  A  fluttering  joy  stole  to 
her  heart ;  she  raised  her  head  and  listened ;  tears  rushed  to 
her  eyee  and  streamed  down  her  cheeks ;  her  bosom  rose  and 
fell  with  a  tumult  of  emotions.  She  would  have  asked  for  the 
minstrel  te  be  brought  into  her  presence,  but  maiden  coyness 
held  her  silent.  The  king  read  her  wishes,  and  at  his  com 
mand  Ahmed  was  conducted  into  the  chamber.  The  lovers 
were  discreet :  they  but  exchanged  glances,  yet  those  glances 
spoke  volumes.  Never  was  triumph  of  music  more  complete. 
The  rose  had  returned  to  the  soft  cheek  of  the  princess,  the 
freshness  to  her  lip,  and  the  dewy  light  to  her  languishing  eye. 

All  the  physicians  present  stared  at  each  other  with  aston 
ishment.  The  king  regarded  the  Arab  minstrel  with  admira 
tion,  mixt  with  awe.  "Wonderful  youth,"  exclaimed  he, 
"thou  shalt  henceforth  be  the  first  physician  of  my  court, 
and  no  other  prescription  will  I  take  but  thy  melody.  For  the 
present,  receive  thy  reward,  the  most  precious  jewel  in  my 
treasury." 

"O  king,"  replied  Ahmed,  "  I  care  not  for  silver,  or  gold,  or 
precious  stones.  One  relique  hast  thou  in  thy  treasury,  handed 
down  from  the  Moslems  who  once  owned  Toledo.  A  box  of 
sandal  wood  containing  a  silken  carpet.  Give  me  that  box, 
and  I  am  content." 

All  present  were  surprised  at  the  moderation  of  the  Arab, 
and  still  more,  when  the  box  of  sandal  wood  was  brought  and 
the  carpet  drawn  forth.  It  was  of  fine  green  silk,  covered 
with  Hebrew  and  Chaldaic  characters.  The  court  physicians 
looked  at  each  other,  shrugged  their  shoulders,  and  smiled  at 
the  simplicity  of  this  new  practitioner,  who  could  be  content 
with  so  paltry  a  fee. 

"  This  carpet,"  said  the  prince,  "  once  covered  the  throne  of 
Solomon  the  wise ;  it  is  worthy  of  being  placed  beneath  the  feet 
of  beauty. " 

So  saying,  he  spread  it  on  the  terrace  beneath  an  ottoman 
that  had  been  brought  forth  for  the  princess;  then  seating 
himself  at  her  feet, — 

"Who,"  said  he,  "shall  counteract  what  is  written  in  the 
book  of  fate?  Behold  the  prediction  of  the  astrologers  verified. 
Know,  oh  king,  that  your  daughter  and  I  have  long  loved  each 
other  in  secret.  Behold  in  me  the  pilgrim  of  love." 

These  words  were  scarcely  from  his  lips,  when  the  carpet 
rose  in  the  air,  bearing  off  the  prince  and  princess.  The  king 
ftnd  the  physicians  gazed  after  it  with  open  mouths  and  strain- 


LEGEND   OF  PRINCE  AHMED  AL  KAMEL.         355 

ing  eyes,  until  it  became  a  little  speck  on  the  white  bosom  of  a 
cloud,  and  then  disappeared  in  the  blue  vault  of  heaven. 

The  king  in  a  rage  summoned  his  treasurer.  "  How  is  this," 
said  he,  ' '  that  thou  hast  suffered  an  infidel  to  get  possession  ol 
such  a  talisman?" 

"Alas!  sire,  we  knew  not  its  nature,  nor  could  we  decipher 
the  inscription  of  the  box.  If  it  be  indeed  the  carpet  of  the 
throne  of  the  wise  Solomon,  it  is  possessed  of  magic  power, 
and  can  transport  its  owner  from  place  to  place  through  the 
air." 

The  king  assembled  a  mighty  army,  and  set  off  for  Granada 
in  pursuit  of  the  fugitives.  His  march  was  long  and  toilsome. 
Encamping  in  the  Vega,  he  sent  a  herald  to  demand  restitu 
tion  of  his  daughter.  The  king  himself  came  forth  with  all 
his  court  to  meet  him.  In  the  king,  he  beheld  the  Arab  min 
strel,  for  Ahmed  had  succeeded  to  the  throne  on  the  death  ol 
his  father,  and  the  beautiful  Aldegonda  was  his  Sultana. 

The  Christian  king  was  easily  pacified,  when  he  found  that 
his  daughter  was  suffered  to  continue  in  her  faith :  not  that  he 
was  particularly  pious ;  but  religion  is  always  a  point  of  pride 
and  etiquette  with  princes.  Instead  of  bloody  battles,  there 
was  a  succession  of  feasts  and  rejoicings ;  after  which,  the  king 
returned  well  pleased  to  Toledo,  and  the  youthful  couple  con 
tinued  to  reign  as  happily  as  wisely,  in  the  Alhambra. 

It  is  proper  to  add,  that  the  owl  and  the  parrot  had  severally 
followed  the  prince  by  easy  stages  to  Granada:  the  former 
travelling  by  night,  and  stopping  at  the  various  hereditary 
possessions  of  his  family ;  the  latter  figuring  in  the  gay  circles 
of  every  town  and  city  on  his  route. 

Ahmed  gratefully  requited  the  services  which  they  had  ren 
dered  him  on  his  pilgrimage.  He  appointed  the  owl  his  prime 
minister ;  the  parrot  his  master  of  ceremonies.  It  is  needles? 
to  say  that  never  was  a  realm  more  sagely  administered,  or  9 
court  conducted  with  more  exact  punctilio. 


THE  ALHAMBRA. 


THE  LEGEND  OF  THE  ROSE  OF  THE  ALHAMBRA  - 

OR, 

THE  PAGE  AND  THE  GER-FALCON. 

FOR  some  time  after  the  surrender  of  Granada  by  the  Moors, 
that  delightful  city  was  a  frequent  and  favourite  residence  of 
the  Spanish  sovereigns,  until  they  were  frightened  away  by 
successive  shocks  of  earthquakes,  which  toppled  down  various 
.houses  and  made  the  old  Moslem  towers  rock  to  their,  founda 
tion. 

Many,  many  years  then  rolled  away,  during  which  Granada 
was  rarely  honoured  by  a  royal  guest.  The  palaces  of  the 
nobility  remained  silent  and  shut  up ;  and  the  Alhambra,  like 
a  slighted  boauty,  sat  in  mournful  desolation  among  her 
neglected  gardens.  The  tower  of  the  Infantas,  once  the  resi 
dence  of  the  three  beautiful  Moorish  princesses,  partook  of  the 
general  desolation ;  and  the  spider  spun  her  web  athwart  the 
gilded  vault,  and  bats  and  owls  nestled  in  those  chambers  that 
had  been  graced  by  the  presence  of  Zayda,  Zorayda,  and  Zora- 
hayda.  The  neglect  of  the  tower  may  partly  have  been  owing 
to  some  superstitious  notions  of  the  neighbours.  It  was 
rumoured  that  the  spirit  of  the  youtliful  Zorahayda,  who  had 
perished  in  that  tower,  was  often  seen  by  moonlight,  seated 
beside  the  fountain  in  the  hall,  or  moaning  about  the  battle 
ments,  and  that  the  notes  of  her  silver  lute  would  be  heard  at 
midnight  by  wayfarers  passing  along  the  glen. 

At  length  the  city  of  Granada  was  once  more  enli vened  by 
the  royal  presence.  All  the  world  knows  that  Philip  V.  was 
the  first  Bourbon  that  swayed  the  Spanish  sceptre.  All  the 
wx>rld  knows  that  he  married,  in  second  nuptials,  Elizabetta  or 
Isabella,  (for  they  are  the  same,)  the  beautiful  princess  of  Par 
ma;  and  all  the  world  knows,  that  by  this  chain  of  contingen 
cies,  a  French  prince  and  an  Italian  princess  were  seated  to 
gether  on  the  Spanish  throne.  For  the  reception  of  this  illustri 
ous  pair,  the  Alhambra  was  repaired  and  fitted  up  with  all  pos 
sible  expedition.  The  arrival  of  the  court  changed  the  whole 
aspect  of  the  lately  deserted  place.  The  clangour  of  drum  and 
trumpet,  the  tramp  of  steed  about  the  avenues  and  outer 


THE  LEGEND   OF  THE  ROSE  OF  THE  ALHAMBRA.  157 

court,  the  glitter  of  arms  and  display  of  banners  about  barbi 
can  and  battlement,  recalled  the  ancient  and  warlike  glories  of 
the  fortress.  A  softer  spirit,  however,  reigned  within  the  royal 
palace.  There  was  the  rustling  of  robes,  and  the  cautious 
tread  and  murmuring  voice  of  reverential  courtiers  about  the 
antechambers ;  a  loitering  of  pages  and  maids  of  honour  about 
the  gardens,  and  the  sound  of  music  stealing  from  open  case 
ments. 

Among  those  who  attended  in  the  train  of  the  monarchs,  was 
a  favourite  page  of  the  queen,  named  Kuyz  de  Alarcon.  To 
say  that  he  was  a  favourite  page  of  the  queen,  was  at  once  to 
speak  his  eulogiuni,  for  every  one  in  the  suite  of  the  stately 
Elizabetta  was  chosen  for  grace,  and  beauty,  and  accomplish 
ments.  He  was  just  turned  of  eighteen,  light  and  little  of 
form,  and  graceful  as  a  young  Antinous.  To  the  queen  he  was 
all  deference  and  respect,  yet  he  was  at  heart  a  roguish  strip 
ling,  petted  and  spoiled  by  the  ladies  about  the  court,  and 
experienced  in  the  ways  of  women  far  beyond  his  years. 

This  loitering  page  was  one  morning  rambling  about  the 
groves  of  the  Generaliffe,  which  overlook  the  grounds  of  the 
Alhambra.  He  had  taken  with  him  for  his  amusement,  a 
favourite  ger-f  alcon  of  the  queen.  In  the  course  of  his  rambles, 
seeing  a  bird  rising  from  a  thicket,  he  unhooded  the  hawk  and 
let  him  fly.  The  falcon  towered  high  in  the  air,  made  a  swoop 
at  his  quarry,  but  missing  it,  soared  away  regardless  of  the  calls 
of  the  page.  The  latter  followed  the  truant  bird  with  his  eye 
in  its  capricious  flight,  until  he  saw  it  alight  upon  the  battle 
ments  of  a  remote  and  lonely  tower,  in  the  outer  wall  of  the 
Alhambra,  built  on  the  edge  of  a  ravine  that  separated  the 
royal  fortress  from  the  grounds  of  the  Generalise.  It  was,  in 
fact,  the  "  tower  of  the  Princesses." 

The  page  descended  into  the  ravine,  and  approached  the 
tower,  but  it  had  no  entrance  from  the  glen,  and  its  lofty  height 
rendered  any  attempt  to  scale  it  fruitless.  Seeking  one  of  the 
gates  of  the  fortress,  therefore,  he  made  a  wide  circuit  to  that 
side  of  the  tower  facing  within  the  walls.  A  small  garden  en 
closed  by  a  trellis- work  of  reeds  overhung  with  myrtle  lay  before 
the  tower.  Opening  a  wicket,  the  page  passed  between  beds  oi 
flowers  and  thickets  of  roses  to  the  door.  It  was  closed  and 
bolted.  A  crevice  in  the  door  gave  him  a  peep  into  the  interior. 
There  was  a  small  Moorish  hall  with  fretted  walls,  light  mar- 
ble  columns,  and  an  alabaster  fountain  surrounded  with  flow 
era.  In  the  centre  hung^a.  gilt  cage  containing  a  singing  bird; 


158  THE  ALHAMBRA. 

beneath  it,  on  a  ohair,  lay  a  tortoise-shell  cat  among  reels  of 
silk  and  other  articles  of  female  labour,  and  a  guitar,  decorated 
with  ribands,  leaned  against  the  fountain. 

Ruyz  de  Alarcon  was  struck  with  these  traces  of  female 
taste  and  elegance  in  a  lonely,  and,  as  he  had  supposed, 
deserted  tower.  They  reminded  him  of  the  tales  of  enchanted 
halls,  current  in  the  Alhambra;  and  the  tortoise-shell  cat 
might  be  some  spell-bound  princess. 

He  knocked  gently  at  the  door,— a  beautiful  face  peeped  out 
from  a  little  window  above,  but  was  instantly  withdrawn.  He 
waited,  expecting  that  the  door  would  be  opened;  but  he 
waited  in  vain:  no  footstep  was  to  be  heard  within,  all  was 
silent.  Had  his  senses  deceived  him,  or  was  this  beautiful  ap 
parition  the  fairy  of  the  tower?  He  knocked  again,  and  more 
loudly.  After  a  little  while,  the  beaming  face  once  more 
peeped  forth :  it  was  that  of  a  blooming  damsel  of  fifteen. 

The  page  immediately  doffed  his  plumed  bonnet,  and 
entreated  in  the  most  courteous  accents  to  be  permitted  to 
ascend  the  tower  in  pursuit  of  his  falcon. 

"  I  dare  not  open  the  door,  Senor,"  replied  the  little  damsel, 
blushing;  "  my  aunt  has  forbidden  it." 

"I  do  beseech  you,  fair  maid;  it  is  the  favourite  falcon  of 
the  queen;  I  dare  not  return  to  the  palace  without  it." 

"Are  you,  then,  one  of  the  cavaliers  of  the  court?" 

"  I  am,  fair  maid ;  but  I  shall  lose  the  queen's  favour  and  my 
place  if  I  lose  this  hawk." 

"Santa  Maria!  It  is  against  you  cavaliers  of  the  court  that 
my  aunt  has  charged  me  especially  to  bar  the  door." 

"Against  wicked  cavaliers,  doubtless;  but  I  am  none  of 
those,  but  a  simple,  harmless  page,  who  will  be  ruined  and 
undone  if  you  deny  me  this  small  request." 

The  heart  of  the  little  damsel  was  touched  by  the  distress  of 
the  page.  It  was  a  thousand  pities  he  should  be  ruined  for  the 
want  of  so  trifling  a  boon.  Surely,  too,  he  could  not  be  one  of 
those  dangerous  beings  whom  her  aunt  had  described  as  a  spe 
cies  of  cannibal,  ever  on  the  prowl  to  make  prey  of  thought 
less  damsels ;  he  was  gentle  and  modest,  and  stood  so  entreat- 
ingly  with  cap  in  hand,  and  looked  so  charming.  The  sly  page 
saw  that  the  garrison  began  to  waver,  and  redoubled  his 
entreaties  in  such  moving  terms,  that  it  was  not  in  the  nature 
of  mortal  maiden  to  deny  him ;  so,  the  blushing  little  warder 
of  the  tower  descended  and  opened  the  door  with  a  trembling 
band ;  and  if  the  page  had  been  charmed  by  a  mere  glimpse  of 


THE  LEGEND  OF  THE  UOSE  OF  THE  ALHAMBRA.  159 

her  countenance  from  the  window,  he  was  ravished  by  the 
full-length  portrait  now  revealed  to  him. 

Her  Andalusian  bodice  and  trim  basquina  set  off  the  round 
but  delicate  symmetry  of  her  form,  which  was  as  yet  scarce 
verging  into  womanhood.  Her  glossy  hair  was  parted  on  her 
forehead  with  scrupulous  exactness,  and  decorated  with  a 
fresh  plucked  rose,  according  to  the  universal  custom  of  the 
country. 

It  is  true,  her  complexion  was  tinged  by  the  ardour  of  a 
southern  sun,  but  it  served  to  give  richness  to  the  mantling 
bloom  of  her  cheek,  and  to  heighten  the  lustre  of  her  melting 
eyes. 

Ruyz  de  Alarcon  beheld  all  this  with  a  single  glance,  for  it 
became  him  not  to  tarry ;  he  merely  murmured  his  acknow 
ledgments,  and  then  bounded  lightly  up  the  spiral  staircase  in 
quest  of  his  falcon.  He  soon  returned  with  the  truant  bird 
upon  his  fist.  The  damsel,  in  the  mean  time,  had  seated  her 
self  by  the  fountain  in  the  hall,  and  was  winding  silk ;  but  in 
her  agitation  she  let  fall  the  reel  upon  the  pavement.  The 
page  sprang,  picked  it  up,  then  dropping  gracefully  on  one 
knee,  presented  it  to  her,  but,  seizing  the  hand  extended  to 
receive  it,  imprinted  on  it  a  kiss  more  fervent  and  devout 
than  he  had  ever  imprinted  on  the  fair  hand  of  his  sovereign. 

"Ave  Maria!  Sefior!"  exclaimed  the  damsel,  blushing  still 
deeper  with  confusion  and  surprise,  for  never  before  had  she 
receive  such  a  salutation. 

The  modest  page  made  a  thousand  apologies,  assuring  her  it 
was  the  way,  at  court,  of  expressing  the  most  profound  hom 
age  and  respect. 

Her  anger,  if  anger  she  felt,  was  easily  pacified;  but  her 
agitation  and  embarrassment  continued,  and  she  sat  blushing 
deeper  and  deeper,  with  her  eyes  cast  down  upon  her  work, 
entangling  the  silk  which  she  attempted  to  wind. 

The  cunning  page  saw  the  confusion  in  the  opposite  camp, 
and  would  fain  have  profited  by  it,  but  the  fine  speeches  he 
would  have  uttered  died  upon  his  lips ;  his  attempts  at  gal 
lantry  were  awkward  and  ineffectual :  and,  to  his  surprise,  the 
adroit  page  who  had  figured  Avith  such  grace  and  effrontery 
among  the  most  knowing  and  experienced  ladies  of  the  court, 
found  himself  awed  and  abashed  in  the  presence  of  a  simple 
damsel  of  fifteen. 

In  fact,  the  artless  maiden,  in  her  own  modesty  and  inno 
cence,  had  guardians  more  effectual  than  the  bolts  and  bars 


160  T1IK  M.11AUBRA. 

prescribed  by  her  vigilant  aunt.  Still,  where  ie  the  female 
bosom  proof  against  the  first  whisperings  of  love?  The  little 
damsel,  with  all  her  artlessness,  instinctively  comprehended  all 
that  the  faltering  tongue  of  the  page  failed  to  express,  and  her 
heart  was  fluttered  at  beholding,  for  the  first  time,  a  lover  at 
her  feet—  and  such  a  lover ! 

The  diffidence  of  the  page,  though  genuine,  was  short-lived, 
and  he  was  recovering  his  usual  ease  and  confidence,  when  a 
shrill  voice  was  heard  at  a  distance. 

"My  aunt  is  returning  from  mass!"  cried  the  damsel  in 
affright.  "I  pray  you,  Senor,  depart." 

"  Not  until  you  grant  me  that  rose  from  your  hair  as  a  re 
membrance." 

She  hastily  untwisted  the  rose  from  her  raven  locks.  "Take 
it,"  cried  she,  agitated  and  blushing,  "but  pray  begone." 

The  page  took  the  rose,  and  at  the  same  time  covered  with 
kisses  the  fair  hand  that  gave  it.  Then  placing  the  flower  in 
his  bonnet,  and  taking  the  falcon  upon  his  fist,  he  bounded  off 
through  the  garden,  bearing  away  with  him  the  heart  of  the 
gentle  Jacinta. 

When  the  vigilant  aunt  arrived  at  the  tower,  she  remarked 
the  agitation  of  her  niece,  and  an  air  of  confusion  in  the  hall ; 
but  a  word  of  explanation  sufficed.  "A  ger-ialcon  had  pur« 
sued  his  prey  into  the  hall." 

"  Mercy  on  us!  To  think  of  a  falcon  flying  into  the  tower. 
Did  ever  one  hear  of  so  saucy  a  hawk?  Why,  the  very  bird  in 
the  cage  is  not  safe." 

The  vigilant  Fredegonda  was  one  of  the  most  wary  of 
ancient  spinsters.  She  had  a  becoming  terror  and  distrust  of 
what  she  denominated  "the  opposite  sex,"  which  had  gradu 
ally  increased  through  a  long  life  of  celibacy.  Not  that  the 
good  lady  had  ever  suffered  from  their  wiles ;  nature  having 
sot  up  a  safeguard  in  her  face,  that  forbade  all  trespass  upon 
her  premises ;  but  ladies  who  have  least  cause  to  fear  for  them 
selves,  are  most  ready  to  keep  a  watch  over  their  more  tempt 
ing  neighbours.  The  niece  was  the  orphan  of  an  officer  who 
had  fallen  in  the  wars.  She  had  been  educated  in  a  convent, 
and  had  recently  been  transferred  from  her  sacred  asylum  to 
the  immediate  guardianship  of  her  aunt;  under  whoso  over 
shadowing  care  she  vegetated  in  obscurity,  like  an  opening 
rose  blooming  beneath  a  briar.  Nor,  indeed,  is  this  comparison 
entirely  accidental,  for  to  tell  the  truth  her  fresh  and  dawnir-o? 
beauty  had  caught  the  pjublir.  eye,  even  in  her  seclusion,  auu. 


THE  LEGEXD  OF  THE  ROSE  OF  THE  ALRAMBRA.  IQ] 

with  that  poetical  turn  common  to  the  people  of  Andalusia, 
the  peasantry  of  the  neighbourhood  had  given  her  the  appella< 
tion  of  "  The  Eose  of  the  Alhambra." 

The  wary  aunt  continued  to  keep  a  faithful  watch  over  hen 
tempting  little  niece  as  long  as  the  court  continued  at  Granada, 
and  flattered  herself  that  her  vigilance  had  been  successful.  It 
is  true,  the  good  lady  was  now  and  then  discomposed  by  the 
tinkling  of  guitars,  and  chanting  of  love  ditties  from  the  moon 
lit  groves  beneath  the  tower,  but  she  would  exhort  her  niece 
to  shut  her  ears  against  such  idle  minstrelsy,  assuring  her 
that  it  was  one  of  the  arts  of  the  opposite  sex,  by  which  simple 
maids  were  often  lured  to  their  undoing ; — alas,  what  chance 
with  a  simple  maid  has  a  dry  lecture  against  a  moonlight 
serenade ! 

At  length  king  Philip  cut  short  his  sojourn  at  Granada,  and 
suddenly  departed  with  all  his  train.  The  vigilant  Fredegonda 
watched  the  royal  pageant  as  it  issued  forth  from  the  gate  of 
Justice,  and  descended  the  great  avenue  leading  to  the  city. 
When  the  last  banner  disappeared  from  her  sight,  she  re 
turned  exulting  to  her  tower,  for  all  her  cares  were  over.  To 
her  surprise,  a  light  Arabian  steed  pawed  the  ground  at  the 
wicket  gate  of  the  garden— to  her  horror  she  saw  through  the 
thickets  of  roses,  a  youth,  in  gaily  embroidered  dress,  at  the 
feet  of  her  niece.  At  the  sound  of  her  footsteps  he  gave  a 
tender  adieu,  bounded  lightly  over  the  barrier  of  reeds  and 
myrtles,  sprang  upon  his  horse,  and  was  out  of  sight  in  an  in-* 
stant. 

The  tender  Jacinta  in  the  agony  of  her  grief  lost  all  thought 
of  her  aunt's  displeasure.  Throwing  herself  into  her  arms,  she 
broke  forth  into  sobs  and  tears. 

"Ay  di  mi!"  cried  she,  "he  is  gone!  he  is  gone!  and  I  shall 
never  see  him  more." 

"Gone!  who  is  gone?  what  youth  is  this  I  saw  at  your  feet?" 

"A  queen's  page,  aunt,  who  came  to  bid  me  farewell." 

"A  queen's  page,  child,"  echoed  the  vigilant  Fredegonda 
faintly,  "  and  when  did  you  become  acquainted  with  a  queen's 
page?" 

"  The  morning  that  the  ger-falcon  flew  into  the  tower.  It 
was  the  queen's  ger-falcon,  and  he  came  in  pursuit  of  it." 

"Ah,  silly,  silly  girl!  know  that  there  are  no  ger-falcons 
half  so  dangerous  as  these  prankling  pages,  and  it  is  precisely 
such  simple  birds  as  thee  that  they  pounce  upon." 

The  aunt  was  at  first  indi<?rr.nt  at  learning  that,  in  despite 


ALBAMBRA. 

of  hor  boasted  vigilance,  a  tender  intercourse  had  been  carriea 
on  by  the  youthful  lovers,  almost  beneath  her  eye ;  but  when 
she  found  that  her  simple-hearted  niece,  though  thus  exposed, 
without  the  protection  of  bolt  or  bar,  to  all  the  machinations 
of  the  opposite  sex,  had  come  forth  unsinged  from  the  fiery 
ordeal,  she  consoled  herself  with  the  persuasion  that  it  was 
owing  to  the  chaste  and  cautious  maxims  in  which  she  had,  aa 
it  were,  steeped  her  to  the  very  lips. 

While  the  aunt  laid  this  soothing  unction  to  her  pride,  the 
niece  treasured  up  the  oft-repeated  vows  of  fidelity  of  the  page. 
But  what  is  the  love  of  restless,  roving  man?  a  vagrant  stream 
that  dallies  for  a  time  with  each  flower  upon  its  banks,  then 
passes  on  and  leaves  them  all  in  tears. 

Days,  weeks,  months  elapsed,  and  nothing  more  was  heard 
of  the  page.  The  pomegranate  ripened,  the  vine  yielded  up  its 
fruit,  the  autumnal  rains  descended  in  torrents  from  the 
mountains ;  the  Sierra  Nevada  became  covered  with  a  snowy 
mantle,  and  wintry  blasts  howled  through  the  halls  of  the  Al- 
hambra :  still  he  came  not.  The  winter  passed  away.  Again 
the  genial  spring  burst  forth  with  song,  and  blossoms,  and 
balmy  zephyr;  the  snows  melted  from  the  mountains,  until 
none  remained,  but  on  the  lofty  summit  of  the  Nevada,  glisten 
ing  through  the  sultry  summer  air:  still  nothing  was  heard  of 
the  forgetful  page. 

In  the  mean  time,  the  poor  little  Jacinta  grew  pale  and 
thoughtful.  Her  former  occupations  and  amusements  were 
abandoned;  her  silk  lay  entangled,  her  guitar  unstrung,  her 
flowers  were  neglected,  the  notes  of  her  bird  unheeded,  and 
her  eyes,  once  so  bright,  were  dimmed  with  secret  weeping. 
If  any  solitude  could  be  devised  to  foster  the  passion  of  a  love 
lorn  damsel,  it  would  be  such  a  place  as  the  Alhambra,  where 
every  thing  seems  disposed  to  produce  tender  and  romantic 
reveries.  It  is  a  very  Paradise  for  lovers ;  how  hard  then  to  be 
alone  in  such  a  Paradise;  and  not  merely  alone,  but  for 
saken. 

41  Alas,  silly  child!"  would  the  staid  and  immaculate  Frede- 
gonda  say,  when  she  found  her  niece  in  one  of  her  desponding 
moods,  "did  I  not  warn  thee  against  the  wiles  and  deceptions 
of  these  men?  What  couldst  thou  expect,  too,  from  one  of  a 
haughty  and  aspiring  family,  thou,  an  orphan,  the  descendant 
of  a  fallen  and  impoverished  line;  be  assured,  if  the  youth 
were  true,  his  father,  who  is  one  of  the  proudest  nobles  about 
the  court,  would  prohibit  bis  union  with  one  so  humble  and 


THE  LEGEND  OP  THE  ROSE  Of  THE  ALHAMBRA  103 

portionless  as  thou.  Pluck  up  thy  resolution,  therefore,  and 
drive  these  idle  notions  from  thy  mind." 

The  words  of  the  immaculate  Fredegonda  only  served  to  in 
crease  the  melancholy  of  her  niece,  but  she  sought  to  indulge 
it  in  private.  At  a  late  hour  one  midsummer  night,  after  her 
aunt  had  retired  to  rest,  she  remained  alone  in  the  hall  of  the 
tower,  seated  beside  the  alabaster  fountain.  It  was  here  that 
the  faithless  page  had  first  knelt  and  kissed  her  hand,  it  was 
here  that  he  had  often  vowed  eternal  fidelity.  The  poor  little 
damsel's  heart  was  overladen  with  sad  and  tender  recollections, 
her  tears  began  to  flow,  and  slowly  fell,  drop  by  drop,  into  the 
fountain.  By  degrees  the  crystal  water  became  agitated,  and, 
bubble— bubble — bubble,  boiled  up,  and  was  tossed  about  until 
a  female  figure,  richly  clad  in  Moorish  robes,  slowly  rose  to 
view. 

Jacinta  was  so  frightened,  that  she  fled  from  the  hall,  and 
did  not  venture  to  return.  The  next  morning,  she  related 
what  she  had  seen  to  her  aunt,  but  the  good  lady  treated  it  as 
a  fantasy  of  her  troubled  mind,  or  supposed  she  had  fallen 
asleep  and  dreamt  beside  the  fountain.  "Thou  hast  been 
thinking  of  the  story  of  the  three  Moorish  princesses  that  once 
inhabited  the  tower,"  continued  she,  "and  it  has  entered  into 
thy  dreams." 

"What  story,  aunt?    I  know  nothing  of  it." 

"Thou  hast  certainly  heard  of  the  three  princesses,  Zayda, 
Zorayda,  and  Zorahayda,  who  were  confined  in  this  tower  by 
the  king  their  father,  and  agreed  to  fly  with  three  Christian 
cavaliers.  The  first  two  accomplished  their  escape,  but  the 
third  failed  in  resolution  and  remained,  and  it  is  said  died  in 
this  tower." 

"  I  now  recollect  to  have  heard  of  it,"  said  Jacinta,  "and  to 
have  wept  over  the  fate  of  the  gentle  Zorahayda." 

"  Thou  mayst  well  weep  over  her  fate,"  continued  the  aunt, 
"for  the  lover  of  Zorahayda  was  thy  ancestor.  He  long  be 
moaned  his  Moorish  love,  but  time  cured  him  of  his  grief,  and 
he  married  a  Spanish  lady,  from  whom  thou  art  descended." 

Jacinta  ruminated  upon  these  words.  ' '  That  what  I  have 
seen  is  no  fantasy  of  the  brain," said  she  to  herself,  "I  am  con 
fident.  If  indeed  it  be  the  sprite  of  the  gentle  Zorahayda, 
which  I  have  heard  lingers  about  this  tower,  of  what  should  I 
ke  afraid?  I'll  watch  by  the  fountain  to-night,  perhaps  the 
visit  will  be  repeated." 

Towards  midnight,  when  every  thing  was  quiet,  she  again 


164  THE  ALIIAMBRA. 

took  her  seat  in  the  hall.  As  the  bell  on  the  distant  watch 
tower  of  the  Alhambra  struck  the  midnight  hour,  the  fountain 
was  again  agitated,  and  bubble — bubble— bubble,  it  tossed 
about  the  waters  until  the  Moorish  female  again  rose  to  view. 
She  was  young  and  beautiful ;  her  dress  was  rich  with  jewels, 
and  in  her  hand  she  held  a  silver  lute.  Jacinta  trembled  and 
was  faint,  but  was  reassured  by  the  soft  and  plaintive  voice 
of  the  apparition,  and  the  sweet  expression  of  her  pale  melan 
choly  countenance. 

"Daughter  of  Mortality,"  said  she,  "  what  aileth  chee?  Why 
do  thy  tears  trouble  my  fountain,  and  thy  sighs  and  plaints 
disturb  the  quiet  watches  of  the  night?" 

"  I  weep  because  of  the  faithlessness  of  man;  and  I  bemoan 
tny  solitary  and  forsaken  state." 

"Take  comfort,  thy  sorrows  may  yet  have  an  end.  Thou 
beholdest  a  Moorish  princess,  who,  like  thee,  was  unhappy  in 
her  love.  A  Christian  knight,  thy  ancestor,  won  my  heart, 
and  would  have  borne  me  to  his  native  land,  and  to  the  bosom 
of  his  church.  I  was  a  convert  in  my  heart,  but  I  lacked  cour 
age  equal  to  my  faith,  and  lingered  till  too  late.  For  this,  the 
evil  genii  are  permitted  to  have  power  over  me,  and  I  remain 
enchanted  in  this  tower,  until  some  pure  Christian  will  deign 
to  break  the  magic  spell.  Wilt  thou  undertake  the  task?" 

"  I  will  1"  replied  the  damsel,  trembling. 

"  Come  hither,  then,  and  fear  not:  dip  thy  hand  in  the  foun 
tain,  sprinkle  the  water  over  me,  and  baptize  me  after  the 
manner  of  thy  faith ;  so  shall  the  enchantment  be  dispelled, 
and  my  troubled  spirit  have  repose." 

The  damsel  advanced  with  faltering  steps,  dipped  her  hand 
in  the  fountain,  collected  water  in  the  palm,  and  sprinkled  it 
over  the  pale  face  of  the  phantom. 

The  latter  smiled  with  ineffable  benignity.  She  dropped  her 
silver  lute  at  the  feet  of  Jacinta,  crossed  her  white  arms  upon 
her  bosom,  and  melted  from  sight,  so  that  it  seemed  merely  as 
'i  a  shower  of  dewdrops  had  fallen  into  the  fountain. 

Jacinta  retired  from  the  hall,  filled  with  awe  and  wonder. 
Bhe  scarcely  closed  her  eyes  that  night,  but  when  she  awoke 
fct  daybreak  out  of  a  troubled  slumber,  the  whole  appeared  to 
her  like  a  distempered  dream.  On  descending  into  the  hall, 
however,  the  truth  of  the  vision  was  established;  for,  beside 
Ihe  fountain  she  beheld  the  silver  lute  glittering  in  the  morn- 
bg  sunshine. 

She  hastened  to  her  aunt,  related  all  that  had  befallen  her 


THE  LEGEND  OF  THK  KOHK  OF  THE,  ALHAMBRA.  166 

and  called  her  to  behold  the  lute  as  a  testimonial  of  the  reality 
of  her  story.  If  the  good  lady  had  any  lingering  doubts,  they 
were  removed  when  Jacinta  touched  the  instrument,  for  sh« 
drew  forth  such  ravishing  tones  as  to  thaw  even  the  frigid 
bosom  of  the  immaculate  Fredegonda,  that  region  of  eternal 
winter,  into  a  genial  flow.  Nothing  but  supernatural  melody 
could  have  produced  such  an  effect. 

The  extraordinary  power  of  the  lute  became  every  day  more 
and  more  apparent.  The  wayfarer  passing  by  the  tower  waa 
detained,  and,  as  it  were,  spell-bound,  in  breathless  ecstasy. 
The  very  birds  gathered  in  the  neighbouring  trees,  and,  hush 
ing  their  own  strains,  listened  in  charmed  silence.  Rumour 
soon  spread  the  news  abroad.  The  inhabitants  of  Granada 
thronged  to  the  Alhambra,  to  catch  a  few  notes  of  the 
transcendent  music  that  floated  about  the  tower  of  Las  In 
fantas. 

The  lovely  little  minstrel  was  at  length  drawn  forth  from 
her  retreat.  The  rich  and  powerful  of  the  land  contended  who 
should  entertain  and  do  honour  to  her ;  or  rather,  who  should 
secure  the  charms  of  her  lute,  to  draw  fashionable  throngs  to 
their  saloons.  Wherever  she  went,  her  vigilant  aunt  kept  a 
dragon-watch  at  her  elbow,  awing  the  throngs  of  impassioned 
admirers  who  hung  in  raptures  on  her  strains.  The  report 
of  her  wonderful  powers  spread  from  city  to  city:  Malaga, 
Seville,  Cordova,  all  became  successively  mad  on  the  theme; 
nothing  was  talked  of  throughout  Andalusia,  but  the  beauti 
ful  minstrel  of  the  Alhambra.  How  could  it  be  otherwise 
among  a  people  so  musical  and  gallant  as  the  Andalusians, 
when  the  lute  was  magical  in  its  powers,  and  the  minstrel 
inspired  by  love. 

While  all  Andalusia  was  thus  music-mad,  a  different  mood 
prevailed  at  the  court  of  Spain.  Philip  V.,  as  is  well  known, 
was  a  miserable  hypochondriac,  and  subject  to  all  kinds  of 
fancies.  Sometimes  he  would  keep  to  his  bed  for  weeks 
together,  groaning  under  imaginary  complaints.  At  other 
times  he  would  insist  upon  abdicating  his  throne,  to  the 
great  annoyance  of  his  royal  spouse,  who  had  a  strong  relish 
for  the  splendours  of  a  court  and  the  glories  of  a  crown,  and 
guided  the  sceptre  of  her  imbecile  lord  with  an  expert  and 
steady  hand. 

Nothing  was  found  to  be  so  eflBcacious  in  dispelling  the 
royal  megrims  as  the  powers  of  music;  the  queen  took 
care,  therefore,  to  have  t*>«  V*>«t  nAT-formers,  both  vocal  and 


166  THE  ALEAMBRA. 

instrumental,  at  hand,  and  retained  the  famous  Italian  singei 
Farinelli  about  the  court  as  a  kind  of  royal  physician. 

At  the  moment  we  treat  of,  however,  a  freak  had  come  ovei 
the  mind  of  this  sapient  and  illustrious  Bourbon,  that  sur^ 
passed  all  former  vagaries.  After  a  long  spell  of  imaginary 
illness,  which  set  all  the  strains  of  Farinelli,  and  the  consul 
tations  of  a  whole  orchestra  of  court  fiddlers,  at  defiance,  the 
monarch  fairly,  in  idea,  gave  up  the  ghost,  and  considered 
himself  absolutely  dead. 

This  would  have  been  harmless  enough,  and  even  convenient 
both  to  his  queen  and  courtiers,  had  he  been  content  to  remain 
in  the  quietude  befitting  a  dead  man ;  but,  to  their  annoyance, 
he  insisted  upon  having  the  funeral  ceremonies  performed 
over  him,  and,  to  their  inexpressible  perplexity,  began  to 
grow  impatient,  and  to  revile  bitterly  at  them  for  negli 
gence  and  disrespect  in  leaving  him  unburied.  What  was  to 
be  done?  To  disobey  the  king's  positive  commands  was 
monstrous  in  the  eyes  ot  the  obsequious  courtiers  of  a  punc 
tilious  court,— but  to  obey  him,  and  bury  him  alive,  would  be 
downright  regicide ! 

In  the  midst  of  this  fearful  dilemma,  a  rumour  reached  the 
court  of  the  female  minstrel,  who  was  turning  the  brains  of  all 
Andalusia.  The  queen  despatched  missives  in  all  haste,  to 
Bummon  her  to  St.  Udefonso,  where  the  court  at  that  time 
resided. 

Within  a  few  days,  as  the  queen  with  her  maids  of  honour 
was  walking  in  those  stately  gardens,  intended,  with  their 
avenues,  and  terraces,  and  fountains,  to  eclipse  the  glories  of 
Versailles,  the  far-famed  minstrel  was  conducted  into  her 
presence.  The  imperial  Elizabetta  gazed  with  surprise  at  the 
youthful  and  unpretending  appearance  of  the  little  being  that 
had  set  the  world  madding.  She  was  in  her  picturesque 
lAndalusian  dress;  her  silver  lute  was  in  her  hand,  and  she 
Stood  with  modest  and  downcast  eyes,  but  with  a  simplicity 
and  freshness  of  beauty  that  still  bespoke  her  "The  Rose  of 
the  Alhambra." 

As  usual,  she  was  accompanied  by  the  ever  vigilant  Frede 
gonda,  who  gave  the  whole  history  of  her  parentage  and 
descent  to  the  inquiring  queen.  If  the  stately  Elizabetta 
had  been  interested  by  the  appearance  of  Jacinta,  bhe  wa§ 
3till  more  pleased  when  she  learnt  that  she  was  of  a  meri 
torious,  though  impoverished  line,  and  that  her  father  had 
gravely  fallen  in  the  s«rvice  of  the  crcwn.  "If  thy  powers 


THE  LEGEND  OP  THE  ROSE  OF  THE  ALHAMBRA.  167 

equal  their  renown,"  said  she,  "and  thou  canst  cast  forth  this 
evil  spirit  that  possesses  thy  sovereign,  thy  fortune  shall 
henceforth  be  my  care,  and  honours  and  wealth  attend  thee." 

Impatient  to  make  trial  of  her  skill,  she  led  the  way  at  once 
to  the  apartment  of  the  moody  monarch.  Jacinta  followed 
with  downcast  eyes  through  files  of  guards  and  crowds  of 
courtiers.  They  arrived  at  length  at  a  great  chamber  hung  in 
black.  The  windows  were  closed,  to  exclude  the  light  of  day ; 
a  number  of  yellow  wax  tapers,  in  silver  sconces,  diffused  a 
lugubrious  light,  and  dimly  revealed  the  figures  of  mutes  in 
mourning  dresses,  and  courtiers,  who  glided  about  with  noise 
less  step  and  woe-begone  visage.  On  the  midst  of  a  funeral 
bed  or  bier,  his  hands  folded  on  his  breast,  and  the  tip  of  his 
nose  just  visible,  lay  extended  this  would-be-buried  monarch. 

The  queen  entered  the  chamber  in  silence,  and,  pointing  to  a 
footstool  in  an  obscure  comer,  beckoned  to  Jacinta  to  sit  down 
and  commence. 

At  first  she  touched  her  lute  with  a  faltering  hand,  but 
gathering  confidence  and  animation  as  she  proceeded,  drew 
forth  such  soft,  aerial  harmony,  that  all  present  could  scarce 
believe  it  mortal.  As  to  the  monarch,  who  had  already  con 
sidered  himself  in  the  world  of  spirits,  he  set  it  down  for  some 
angelic  melody,  or  the  music  of  the  spheres.  By  degrees  the 
theme  was  varied,  and  the  voice  of  the  minstrel  accompanied 
the  instrument*  She  poured  forth  one  of  the  legendary  bal 
lads  treating  of  the  ancient  glories  of  the  Alhambra,  and  the 
achievements  of  the  Moors.  Her  whole  soul  entered  into  the 
theme,  for  with  the  recollections  of  the  Albambra  was  associ 
ated  the  story  of  her  love ;  the  funereal  chamber  resounded 
with  the  animating  strain.  It  entered  into  the  gloomy  heart 
of  the  monarch.  He  raised  his  head  and  gazed  around ;  he  sat 
up  on  his  couch ;  his  eye  began  to  kindle ;  at  length,  leaping 
upon  the  floor,  he  called  for  sword  and  buckler. 

The  triumph  of  music,  or  rather  of  the  enchanted  lute,  was 
complete ;  the  demon  of  melancholy  was  cast  forth ;  and,  as  it 
were,  a  dead  man  brought  to  life.  The  windows  of  the  apart 
ment  were  thrown  open ;  the  'glorious  effulgence  of  Spanish 
sunshine  burst  into  the  late  lugubrious  chamber;  all  eyes 
sought  the  lovely  enchantress,  but  the  lute  had  fallen  from  her 
hand ;  she  had  sunk  upon  the  earth,  and  the  next  moment  was 
clasped  to  the  bosom  of  Ruyz  de  Alarcon. 

The  nuptials  of  the  happy  couple  were  shortly  after  celebrated 
vith  great  splendour,  —but  hold.  I  hear  the  reader  ask  how  did 


163  THE  ALHAMBRA. 

Ruyz  de  Alarcon  account  for  his  long  neglect?  Oh,— that  waa 
all  owing  to  the  opposition  of  a  proud  pragmatical  old  father,— 
besides,  young  people,  who  really  like  one  another,  soon  come 
to  an  amicable  understanding,  and  bury  all  past  grievances 
whenever  they  meet. 

But  how  was  the  proud  pragmatical  old  father  reconciled  to 
the  match? 

Oh,  his  scruples  were  easily  overruled  by  a  word  or  two  from 
the  queen,— especially  as  dignities  and  rewards  were  showered 
upon  the  blooming  favourite  of  royalty.  Besides,  the  lute  of 
Jacinta,  you  know,  possessed  a  magic  power,  and  could  con 
trol  the  most  stubborn  head  and  hardest  heart. 

And  what  became  of  the  enchanted  lute? 

Oh,  that  is  the  most  curious  matter  of  all,  and  plainly  proves 
the  truth  of  all  the  story.  That  lute  remained  for  some  time 
in  the  family,  but  was  purloined  and  carried  off,  as  was  sup 
posed,  by  the  great  singer  Farinelli,  in  pure  jealousy.  At  his 
death  it  passed  into  other  hands  in  Italy,  who  were  ignorant  of 
its  mystic  powers,  and  melting  down  the  silver,  transferred  tha 
strings  to  an  old  Cremona  fiddle.  The  strings  still  retain  some 
thing  of  their  magic  virtues.  A  word  in  the  reader's  ear,  but 
let  it  go  no  further, — that  fiddle  is  now  bewitching  the  whole 
world, — it  is  the  fiddle  of  Paganini ! 


THE  VETERAN. 

AMONG  the  curious  acquaintances  I  have  made  in  my  rambles 
about  the  fortress,  is  a  brave  and  battered  old  Colonel  of  In 
valids,  who  is  nestled  like  a  hawk  in  one  of  the  Moorish  towers. 
His  history,  which  he  is  fond  of  telling,  is  a  tissue  of  those 
adventures,  mishaps,  and  vicissitudes  that  render  the  life  of 
almost  every  Spaniard  of  note  as  varied  and  whimsical  as  tho 
pages  of  Gil  Bias. 

He  was  in  America  at  twelve  years  of  age,  and  reckons 
among  the  most  signal  and  fortunate  events  of  his  lif e,  his  hav 
ing  seen  General  Washington.  Since  then  he  has  taken  a  part 
in  all  the  wars  of  his  country;  he  can  speak  experimentally  of 
most  of  the  prisons  and  dungeons  of  the  Peninsula,  has  been 
lamed  of  one  leg,  crippled  in  his  hand,  and  so  cut  up  and  car 
bonadoed,  that  he  is  a  kind  of  walking  monument  of  th* 
troubles  of  Spain,  on  which  there  is  a  scar  for  every  battle  and! 


THE   VETERAN.  169 

broil,  as  every  year  was  notched  upon  the  tree  of  Robinson 
Crusoe.  The  greatest  misfortune  of  the  brave  old  cavalier, 
however,  appears  to  have  been  his  having  commanded  at 
Malaga  during  a  time  of  peril  and  confusion,  and  been  made  a 
general  by  the  inhabitants  to  protect  them  from  the  invasion 
of  the  French. 

This  has  entailed  upon  him  a  number  of  just  claims  upou 
government  that  I  fear  will  employ  him  until  his  dying  day  in 
writing  and  printing  petitions  and  memorials,  to  the  great  dis 
quiet  of  his  mind,  exhaustion  of  his  purse,  and  penance  of  his 
friends ;  not  one  of  whom  can  visit  him  without  having  to  listen 
to  a  mortal  document  of  half  an  hour  in  length,  and  to  carry 
away  half  a  dozen  pamphlets  in  his  pocket.  This,  however, 
is  the  case  throughout  Spain :  every  where  you  meet  with  some 
worthy  wight  brooding  in  a  corner,  and  nursing  up  some  pet 
grievance  and  cherished  wrong.  Beside,  a  Spaniard  who  has 
a  lawsuit,  or  a  claim  upon  government,  may  be  considered  as 
furnished  with  employment  for  the  remainder  of  his  life. 

I  visited  the  veteran  in  his  quarters  in  the  upper  part  of  the 
Tprre  del  Vino,  or  Wine  Tower.  His  room  was  small  but  snug, 
and  commanded  a  beautiful  view  of  the  Vega.  It  was  arranged 
with  a  soldier's  precision.  Three  muskets  and  a  brace  of  pistols, 
all  bright  and  shining,  were  suspended  against  the  wall,  with  a 
eabre  and  a  cane  hanging  side  by  side,  and  above  these  two 
cocked  hats,  one  for  parade,  and  one  for  ordinary  use.  A  small 
shelf,  containing  some  half  dozen  books,  formed  his  library, 
one  of  which,  a  little  old  mouldy  volume  of  philosophical 
maxims,  was  his  favourite  reading.  This  he  thumbed  and 
pondered  over  day  by  day ;  applying  every  maxim  to  his  own 
particular  case,  provided  it  had  a  little  tinge  of  wholesome  bit 
terness,  and  treated  of  the  injustice  of  the  world. 

Yet  he  is  social  and  kind-hearted,  and,  provided  he  can  be 
diverted  from  his  wrongs  and  his  philosophy,  is  an  entertain 
ing  companion.  I  like  these  old  weather-beaten  sons  of  fortune, 
and  enjoy  their  rough  campaigning  anecdotes.  In  the  course 
of  my  visit  to  the  one  in  question,  I  learnt  some  curious  facts 
about  an  old  military  commander  of  the  fortress,  who  seems  to 
have  resembled  him  in  some  respects,  and  to  have  had  similar 
fortunes  in  the  wars.  These  particulars  have  been  augmented 
by  inquiries  among  some  of  the  old  inhabitants  of  the  place, 
particularly  the  father  of  Mateo  Ximenes,  of  whose  traditional 
stories  the  worthy  I  am  about  to  introduce  to  the  reader  is  a 
favourite  hero. 


170  THE  AL11AMBRA. 


THE  GOVERNOR  AND  THE  NOTARY. 

In  former  times  there  ruled,  as  governor  of  the  Alhambra,  a 
doughty  old  cavalier,  who,  from  having  lost  one  arm  in  the 
ware,  was  commonly  known  by  the  name  of  El  Gobemador 
Manco,  or  the  one-armed  governor.  He  in  fact  prided  himseli 
upon  being  an  old  soldier,  wore  his  mustachios  curled  up  to  his 
eyes,  a  pair  of  campaigning  boots,  and  a  toledo  as  long  as  a  spit, 
with  his  pocket  handkerchief  in  the  basket-hilt. 

He  was,  moreover,  exceedingly  proud  and  punctilious,  and 
tenacious  of  all  his  privileges  and  dignities.  Under  his  sway, 
the  immunities  of  the  Alhambra,  as  a  royal  residence  and  do 
main,  were  rigidly  exacted.  No  one  was  permitted  to  enter 
the  fortress  with  fire-arms,  or  even  with  a  sword  or  staff,  unless 
he  were  of  a  certain  rank,  and  every  horseman  was  obliged  to 
dismount  at  the  gate  and  lead  his  horse  by  the  bridle.  Now, 
as  the  hill  of  the  Alhambra  rises  from  the  very  midst  of  the 
city  of  Granada,  being,  as  it  were,  an  excrescence  of  the  capi 
tal,  it  must  at  all  times  be  somewhat  irksome  to  the  captain- 
general  who  commands  the  province,  to  have  thus  an  imperiuna 
in  iraperio,  a  petty  independent  post,  in  the  very  core  of  his 
domains.  It  was  rendered  the  more  galling  in  the  present 
instance,  from  the  irritable  jealousy  of  the  old  governor,  that 
took  fire  on  the  least  question  of  authority  and  jurisdiction, 
and  from  the  loose  vagrant  character  of  the  people  that  had 
gradually  nestled  themselves  within  the  fortress  as  in  a  sanctu 
ary,  and  from  thence  carried  on  a  system  of  roguery  and  dep 
redation  at  the  expense  of  the  honest  inhabitants  of  the  city. 
Thus  there  was  a  perpetual  feud  and  heart-burning  between 
the  captain-general  and  the  governor;  the  more  virulent  on 
the  part  of  the  latter,  inasmuch  as  the  smallest  of  two  neigh 
bouring  potentates  is  always  the  most  captious  about  his  dignity. 
The  stately  palace  of  the  captain-general  stood  in  the  Plaza 
Nueva,  immediately  at  the  foot  of  the  hill  of  the  Alhambra, 
and  here  was  always  a  bustle  and  parade  of  guards,  and  domes 
tics,  and  city  functionaries.  A  beetling  bastion  of  the  fortress 
overlooked  the  palace  and  the  public  square  in  front  of  it ;  and 
on  this  bastion  the  old  governor  would  occasionally  strut  back- 
Wards  and  forwards,  with  his  toledo  girded  by  his  side,  keeping 


THE  GOVERNOR  AND  T1IE  NOTARY.  171 

a  wary  eye  down  upon  his  rival,  like  a  hawk  reconnoitring  hia 
quarry  from  his  nest  in  a  dry  tree. 

Whenever  he  descended  into  the  city,  it  was  in  grand 
parade,  on  horseback,  surrounded  by  his  guards,  or  in  his 
state  coach,  an  ancient  and  unwieldy  Spanish  edifice  of  carved 
timber  and  gilt  leather,  drawn  by  eight  mules,  with  running 
footmen,  outriders,  and  lacqueys,  on  which  occasions  he  nat 
tered  himself  he  impressed  every  beholder  with  awe  and  ad 
miration  as  vicegerent  of  the  king,  though  the  wits  of  Gra 
nada,  particularly  those  who  loitered  about  the  palace  of  the 
captain-general,  were  apt  to  sneer  at  his  petty  parade,  and,  in 
allusion  to  the  vagrant  character  of  his  subjects,  to  greet  him 
with  the  appellation  of  "  the  King  of  the  beggars." 

One  of  the  most  fruitful  sources  of  dispute  between  these 
two  doughty  rivals,  was  the  right  claimed  by  the  governor 
to  have  all  things  passed  free  of  duty  through  the  city,  that 
were  intended  for  the  use  of  himself  or  his  garrison.  By  de 
grees,  this  privilege  had  given  rise  to  extensive  smuggling.  A 
nest  of  contrabandistas  took  up  their  abode  in  the  hovels  of 
the  fortress  and  the  numerous  caves  in  its  vicinity,  and  drove 
a  thriving  business  under  the  connivance  of  the  soldiers  of 
the  garrison. 

The  vigilance  of  the  captain-general  was  aroused.  He  con 
sulted  his  legal  adviser  and  factotum,  a  shrewd,  meddlesome 
Escribano  or  notary,  who  rejoiced  in  an  opportunity  of  per 
plexing  the  old  potentate  of  the  Alhambra,  and  involving  him 
in  a  maze  of  legal  subtilities.  He  advised  the  captain -general 
to  insist  upon  the  right  of  examining  every  convoy  passing 
through  the  gates  of  his  city,  and  he  penned  a  long  letter  for 
him,  in  vindication  of  the  right.  Governor  Manco  was  a 
straight-forward,  cut-and-thrust  old  soldier,  who  hated  an 
Escribano  worse  than  the  devil,  and  this  one  in  particular, 
worse  than  all  other  Escribanoes. 

"What!"  said  he,  curling  up  his  mustachios  fiercely,  "  does 
the  captain-general  set  his  man  of  the  pen  to  practise  con 
fusions  upon  me?  I'll  let  him  see  that  an  old  soldier  is  not  to 
be  baffled  by  schoolcraft." 

He  seized  his  pen,  and  scrawled  a  short  letter  in  a  crabbed 
hand,  in  which,  without  deigning  to  enter  into  argument,  he 
insisted  on  the  right  of  transit  free  of  search,  and  denounced 
vengeance  on  any  custom-house  officer  who  should  lay  his  un 
hallowed  hand  on  any  convoy  protected  by  the  flag  of  tb/» 
Alhambra. 


172  THE  ALHAMBRA. 

While  this  question  was  agitated  between  the  two  pragmati 
cal  potentates,  it  so  happened  that  a  mule  laden  with  supplier 
for  the  f ortres ;  arrived  one  day  at  the  gate  of  Xenil,  by  which 
it  was  to  traverse  a  suburb  of  the  city  on  its  way  to  th« 
Alhambra.  The  convoy  was  headed  by  a  testy  old  corporal, 
who  had  long  served  under  the  governor,  and  was  a  man  aftei 
his  own  heart ;  as  trusty  and  staunch  as  an  old  toledo  blade. 
As  they  approached  the  gate  of  the  city,  the  corporal  placed 
the  banner  of  the  Alhambra  on  the  pack  saddle  of  the  mule, 
and,  drawing  himself  up  to  a  perfect  perpendicular,  advanced 
with  his  head  dressed  to  the  front,  but  with  the  wary  side 
glance  of  a  cur  passing  through  hostile  grounds,  and  ready  for 
a  snap  and  a  snarl. 

"  Who  goes  there?"  said  the  sentinel  at  the  gate. 

"Soldier  of  the  Alhambra,"  said  the  corporal,  without  turn* 
ing  his  head. 

"  What  have  you  in  charge?" 

"Provisions  for  the  garrison." 

"  Proceed." 

The  corporal  marched  straight  forward,  followed  by  the 
convoy,  but  had  not  advanced  many  paces,  before  a  posse  of 
custom-house  officer  rushed  out  of  a  small  toll-house. 

"Hallo  there  I"  cried  the  leader:  "Muleteer,  halt  and  open 
those  packages." 

The  corporal  wheeled  round,  and  drew  himself  up  in  battle 
array.  "Respect  the  flag  of  the  Alhambra,"  said  he;  "these 
things  are  for  the  governor." 

"A  fig  for  the  governor,  and  a  fig  for  his  flag.  Muleteer, 
halt,  I  say." 

"  Stop  the  convoy  at  your  peril !"  cried  the  corporal,  cocking 
bis  musket.  "  Muleteer,  proceed." 

The  muleteer  gave  his  beast  a  hearty  thwack,  the  custom 
house  officer  sprang  forward,  and  seized  the  halter;  where 
upon  the  corporal  levelled  his  piece  and  shot  him  dead. 

The  street  was  immediately  in  an  uproar.  The  old  corporal 
was  seized,  and  after  undergoing  sundry  kicks  and  cuffs,  and 
cudgellings,  which  are  generally  given  impromptu,  by  the 
mob  in  Spain,  as  a  foretaste  of  the  after  penalties  of  the  law, 
he  was  loaded  with  irons,  and  conducted  to  the  city  prison; 
while  his  comrades  were  permitted  to  proceed  with  the  convoy, 
after  it  had  been  well  rummaged,  to  the  Alhambra. 

The  old  governor  was  in  a  towering  passion,  when  he  heard 
of  this  insult  to  his  flag  and  capture  of  his  corporal.  For  a 


THE  GOVERNOR  AND  THE  NOTARY.  173 

time  he  stormed  about  the  Moorish  halls,  and  vapoured  about 
the  bastions,  and  looked  down  fire  and  sword  upon  the  palace 
of  the  captain-general.  Having  vented  the  first  ebullition  of 
his  wrath,  he  despatched  a  message  demanding  the  surrender 
of  the  corporal,  as  to  him  alone  belonged  the  right  of  sitting 
in  judgment  on  the  offences  of  those  under  his  command. 
The  captain-general,  aided  by  the  pen  of  the  delighted  Escri- 
bano,  replied  at  great  length,  arguing  that  as  the  offence  had 
been  committed  within  the  walls  of  Ms  city,  and  against  one 
of  his  civil  officers,  it  was  clearly  within  his  proper  jurisdic 
tion.  The  governor  rejoined  by  a  repetition  of  his  demand ; 
the  captain  general  gave  a  sur-re joinder  of  still  greater  length, 
artd  legal  acumen ;  the  governor  became  hotter  and  more  per 
emptory  in  his  demands,  and  the  captain-general  cooler  and 
more  copious  in  his  replies ;  until  the  old  lion-hearted  soldier 
absolutely  roared  with  fury,  at  being  thus  entangled  in  the 
meshes  of  legal  controversy. 

While  the  subtle  Escribano  was  thus  amusing  himself  at  the 
expense  of  the  governor,  he  was  conducting  the  trial  of  the 
corporal ;  who,  mewed  up  in  a  narrow  dungeon  of  the  prison, 
had  merely  a  small  grated  window  at  which  to  show  his  iron- 
bound  visage,  and  receive  the  consolations  of  his  friends;  a 
mountain  of  written  testimony  was  diligently  heaped  up,  ac< 
cording  to  Spanish  form,  by  the  indefatigable  Escribano ;  the 
corporal  was  completely  overwhelmed  by  it.  He  was  con 
victed  of  murder,  and  sentenced  to  be  hanged. 

It  was  in  vain  the  governor  sent  down  remonstrance  and 
menace  from  the  Alhambra.  The  fatal  day  was  at  hand,  and 
the  corporal  was  put  in  capilla,  that  is  to  say,  in  the  chapel  of 
the  prison;  as  is  always  done  with  culprits  the  day  before 
execution,  that  they  may  meditate  on  their  approaching  end, 
and  repent  them  of  their  sins. 

Seeing  things  drawing  to  an  extremity,  the  old  governor 
determined  to  attend  to  the  affair  in  person.  For  this  purpose 
he  ordered  out  his  carriage  of  state,  and,  surrounded  by  his 
guards,  rumbled  down  the  avenue  of  the  Alhambra  into  the 
city.  Driving  to  the  house  of  the  Escribano,  he  summoned 
him  to  the  portal. 

The  eye  of  the  old  governor  gleamed  like  a  coal  at  beholding 
the  smirking  man  of  the  law  advancing  with  an  air  of  exul 
tation. 

"What  is  this  I  hear,"  cried  he,  "that  you  are  about  to  put 
to  death  one  of  my  soldiers?" 


174  THE  ALUAMBRA. 

"All  according  to  law,— all  in  strict  form  of  justice,"  said 
the  self -sufficient  Escribano,  chuckling  and  rubbing  his  hands. 
"I  can  show  your  excellency  the  written  testimony  in  the 
case." 

"  Fetch  it  hither,"  said  the  governor. 

The  Escribano  bustled  into  his  office,  delighted  with  having 
another  opportunity  of  displaying  his  ingenuity  at  the  expense 
of  the  hard-headed  veteran.  He  returned  with  a  satchel  full 
of  papers,  and  began  to  read  a  long  deposition  with  profes 
sional  volubility.  By  this  time,  a  crowd  had  collected,  listen 
ing  with  outstretched  necks  and  gaping  mouths. 

"Pry'thee  man,  get  into  the  carriage  out  of  this  pestilent 
throng,  that  I  may  the  better  hear  thee,"  said  the  governor. 

The  Escribano  entered  the  carriage,  when,  in  a  twinkling, 
the  door  was  closed,  the  coachman  smacked  his  whip,  mules, 
carriage,  guards,  and  all  dashed  off  at  a  thundering  rate,  leav 
ing  the  crowd  in  gaping  wonderment,  nor  did  the  governor 
pause  until  he  had  lodged  his  prey  in  one  of  the  strongest 
dungeons  of  the  Alhambra. 

He  then  sent  down  a  flag  of  truce  in  military  style,  propos 
ing  a  cartel  or  exchange  of  prisoners,  the  corporal  for  the 
notary.  The  pride  of  the  captain -general  was  piqued,  he  re 
turned  a  contemptuous  refusal,  and  forthwith  caused  a  gal 
lows,  tall  and  strong,  to  be  erected  in  the  centre  of  the  Plaza 
Neuva,  for  the  execution  of  the  corporal. 

"O  ho!  is  that  the  game?"  said  Governor  Manco:  he  gave 
orders,  and  immediately  a  gibbet  was  reared  on  the  verge  of 
the  great  beetling  bastion  that  overlooked  the  Plaza.  "  Now," 
said  he,  in  a  message  to  the  captain-general,  ' '  hang  my  soldier 
when  you  please ;  but  at  the  same  time  that  he  is  swung  off  in 
the  square,  look  up  to  see  your  Escribano  dangling  against  the 
sky." 

The  captain-general  was  inflexible ;  troops  were  paraded  in 
the  square ;  the  drums  beat ;  the  bell  tolled ;  an  immense  mul 
titude  of  amateurs  had  collected  to  behold  the  execution;  on 
the  other  hand,  the  governor  paraded  his  garrison  on  the  bas 
tion,  and  tolled  the  funeral  dirge  of  the  notary  from  the  Torre 
de  la  Campana,  or  tower  of  the  bell. 

The  notary's  wife  pressed  through  the  crowd  with  a  whole 
progeny  of  little  embryo  Escribanoes  at  her  heels,  and  throw 
ing  herself  at  the  feet  of  the  captain-general,  implored  him  not 
to  sacrifice  the  life  of  her  husband,  and  the  welfare  of  herself 
and  her  numerous  little  ones  to  a  point  of  pride;  "for  you 


GOVERNOR  MANGO  AND   THE  SOLDIER.  175 

!mow  the  old  governor  too  well,"  said  she,  "to  doubt  that  he 
will  put  his  threat  in  execution  if  you  hang  the  soldier." 

The  captain-general  was  overpowered  by  her  tears  and  lam 
entations,  and  the  clamours  of  her  callow  brood.  The  corporal 
was  sent  up  to  the  Alhambra  under  a  guard,  in  his  gallows 
garb,  like  a  hooded  friar ;  but  with  head  erect  and  a  face  of 
iron.  The  Escribano  was  demanded  in  exchange,  according  to 
the  cartel.  The  once  bustling  and  self-sufficient  man  of  the 
law  was  drawn  forth  from  his  dungeon,  more  dead  than  alive. 
All  his  flippancy  and  conceit  had  evaporated;  his  hair,  it  is 
said,  had  nearly  turned  gray  with  affright,  and  he  had  a  down 
cast,  dogged  look,  as  if  he  still  felt  the  halter  round  his  neck. 

The  old  governor  stuck  his  one  arm  a-kimbo,  and  for  a  mo 
ment  surveyed  him  with  an  iron  smile.  "Henceforth,  my 
friend, "said  he,  "moderate  your  zeal  in  hurrying  others  to 
the  gallows;  be  not  too  certain  of  your  own  safety,  even 
though  you  should  have  the  law  on  your  side ;  and,  above  all, 
take  care  how  you  play  off  your  schoolcraft  another  time  upon 
an  old  soldier." 


GOVERNOR  MANGO  AND  THE  SOLDIER. 

WHEN  Governor  Manco,  or  the  one-armed,  kept  up  a  show  of 
military  state  in  the  Alhambra,  he  became  nettled  at  the  re 
proaches  continually  cast  upon  his  fortress  of  being  a  nestling 
place  of  rogues  and  contrabandistas.  On  a  sudden,  the  old 
potentate  determined  on  reform,  and  setting  vigorously  to 
work,  ejected  whole  nests  of  vagabonds  out  of  the  fortress, 
and  the  gypsy  caves  with  which  the  surrounding  hills  are 
honey-combed.  He  sent  out  soldiers,  also,  to  patrol  the 
avenues  and  footpaths,  with  orders  to  take  up  all  suspicious 
persons. 

One  bright  summer  morning,  a  patrol  consisting  of  the  testy 
old  corporal  who  had  distinguished  himself  in  the  affair  of 
the  notary,  a  trumpeter  and  two  privates  were  seated  under 
the  garden  wall  of  the  Generaliffe,  beside  the  road  which  leads 
down  from  the  mountain  of  the  Sun,  when  they  heard  the 
tramp  of  a  horse,  and  a  male  voice  singing  in  rough,  though 
not  unmusical  tones,  an  old  Castilian  campaigning  &*&£. 

Presently  they  beheld  a  sturdy*  sun-burnt  fellow  clan  m  tto« 


176  Tllti  ALlLAMmtA. 

Pigged  garb  of  a  foot-soldier,   leading  a  powerful  Arabian 
horse  caparisoned  in  the  ancient  Morisco  fashion. 

Astonished  at  the  sight  of  a  strange  soldier,  descending, 
steed  in  hand,  from  that  solitary  mountain,  the  corporal 
stepped  forth  and  challenged  him. 

"Who  goes  there?" 

"  A  friend. " 

"Who,  and  what  are  you?" 

"A  poor  soldier,  just  from  the  wars,  with  a  cracked  crown 
and  empty  purse  for  a  reward." 

By  this  time  they  were  enabled  to  view  him  more  narrowly. 
He  had  a  black  patch  across  his  forehead,  which,  with  a  griz 
zled  beard,  added  to  a  certain  dare-devil  cast  of  countenance, 
while  a  slight  squint  threw  into  the  whole  an  occasional  gleam 
of  roguish  good-humour. 

Having  answered  the  questions  of  the  patrol,  the  soldier 
seemed  to  consider  himself  entitled  to  make  others  in  return. 

"May  I  ask,"  said  he,  "  what  city  is  this  which  I  see  at  the 
foot  of  the  hill?" 

"What  city!"  cried  the  trumpeter;  "come,  that's  too  bad. 
Here's  a  fellow  lurking  about  the  mountain  of  the  Sun,  and 
demands  the  name  of  the  great  city  of  Granada." 

"Granada!  Madre  de  Dios!  can  it  be  possible!" 

" Perhaps  not  1"  rejoined  the  trumpeter,  "and  perhaps  you 
have  no  idea  that  yonder  are  the  towers  of  the  Alhambra?" 

"  Son  of  a  trumpet,"  replied  the  stranger,  "do  not  trifle  with 
me ;  if  this  be  indeed  the  Alhambra,  I  have  some  strange  mat 
ters  to  reveal  to  the  governor." 

"You  will  have  an  opportunity,"  said  the  corporal,  "  for  we 
mean  to  take  you  before  him." 

By  this  time  the  trumpeter  had  seized  the  bridle  of  the  steed, 
the  two  privates  had  each  secured  an  arm  of  the  soldier,  the 
corporal  put  himself  in  front,  gave  the  word,  "forward, 
march !"  and  away  they  marched  for  the  Alhambra. 

The  sight  of  a  ragged  foot-soldier  and  a  fine  Arabian  horse 
brought  in  captive  by  the  patrol,  attracted  the  attention  of  all 
the  idlers  of  the  fortress,  and  of  those  gossip  groups  that  gen 
erally  assemble  about  wells  and  fountains  at  early  dawn.  The 
wheel  of  the  cistern  paused  in  its  rotations ;  the  slipshod  ser 
vant-maid  stood  gaping  with  pitcher  in  hand,  as  the  corporal 
passed  by  with  his  prize.  A  motley  train  gradually  gathered 
in  the  rear  of  the  escort.  Knowing  nods,  and  winks,  and  con 
jectures  passed  from  one  to  another.  It  is  a  deserter,  said 


GOVERNOR  MANGO  AND  THE  SOLDIER.          177 

one;  a  contrabandista,  said  another;  a  bandalero,  said  a  third, 
until  it  was  affirmed  that  a  captain  of  a  desperate  band  A 
robbers  had  been  captured  by  the  prowess  of  the  corporal  and 
his  patrol.  "Well,  well,"  said  the  old  crones  one  to  another, 
"  captain  or  not,  let  him  get  out  of  the  grasp  of  old  Governor 
Manco  if  he  can,  though  he  is  but  one-handed." 

Governor  Manco  was  seated  in  one  of  the  inner  haHs  of  th? 
Alhambra,  taking  his  morning's  cup  of  chocolate  in  company 
with  his  confessor,  a  fat  Franciscan  friar  from  the  neighbour 
ing  convent.  A  demure,  dark-eyed  damsel  of  Malaga,  the 
daughter  of  his  housekeeper,  was  attending  upon  him. 

The  world  hinted  that  the  damsel,  who,  with  all  her  demure- 
ness,  was  a  sly,  buxom  baggage,  had  found  out  a  soft  spot 
in  the  iron  heart  of  the  old  governor,  and  held  complete  con 
trol  over  him, — but  let  that  pass;  the  domestic  affairs  of  these 
mighty  potentates  of  the  earth  should  not  be  too  narrowly 
scrutinized. 

When  word  was  brought  that  a  suspicious  stranger  had 
been  taken  lurking  about  the  fortress,  and  was  actually  in  the 
outer  court,  in  durance  of  the  corporal,  waiting  the  pleasure 
of  his  excellency,  the  pride  and  stateliness  of  office  swelled  the 
bosom  of  the  governor.  Giving  back  his  chocolate  cup  into 
the  hands  of  the  demure  damsel,  he  called  for  his  basket-hilted 
sword,  girded  it  to  his  side,  twirled  up  his  mustachios,  took 
his  seat  in  a  large  high-backed  chair,  assumed  a  bitter  and  for 
bidding  aspect,  and  ordered  the  prisoner  into  his  presence. 
The  soldier  was  brought  in,  still  closely  pinioned  by  his  cap 
tors,  and  guarded  by  the  corporal.  He  maintained,  however, 
a  resolute,  self-confident  air,  and  returned  the  sharp,  scruti 
nizing  look  of  the  governor  with  an  easy  squint,  which  by  no 
means  pleased  the  punctilious  old  potentate. 

"Well,  culprit!"  said  the  governor,  after  he  had  regarded 
him  for  a  moment  in  silence,  "  what  have  you  to  say  for  your 
self?  who  are  you?" 

"A  soldier,  just  from  the  wars,  who  has  brought  away 
nothing  but  scars  and  bruises." 

"A  soldier?  humph!  a  foot-soldier  by  your  garb.  I  under 
stand  you  have  a  fine  Arabian  horse.  I  presume  you  brought 
him  too  from  the  wars,  beside  your  scars  and  bruises." 

"May  it  please  your  excellency,  I  have  something  strange 
to  tell  about  that  horse.  Indeed,  I  have  one  of  the  most  won 
derful  things  to  relate — something  too  that  concerns  the  secu 
rity  of  this  fortress,  indeed,  of  all  Granada.  But  it  is  a  matter 


178  THE  ALliAXBRA. 

to  be  imparted  only  to  your  private  ear,  or  in  presence  of  such 
only  as  are  in  your  confidence." 

The  governor  considered  for  a  moment,  and  then  directed  the 
corporal  and  his  men  to  withdraw,  but  to  post  themselves  out 
side  of  the  door,  and  be  ready  at  call.  "  This  holy  friar,"  said 
he,  "is  my  confessor,  you  may  say  anything  in  his  presence- 
land  this  damsel,"  nodding  towards  the  handmaid,  who  had 
loitered  with  an  air  of  great  curiosity,  "  tliis  damsel  is  of  great 
secrecy  and  discretion,  and  to  be  trusted  with  any  thing." 

The  soldier  gave  a  glance  between  a  squint  and  a  leer  at  tho 
demure  handmaid.  "lam  perfectly  willing, "  said  he,  "that 
the  damsel  should  remain." 

When  all  the  rest  had  withdrawn,  the  soldier  commenced 
his  story.  He  was  a  fluent,  smooth-tongued  varlet,  and  had  a 
command  of  language  above  his  apparent  rank. 

"  May  it  please  your  excellency,"  said  he,  "I  am,  as  I  before 
observed,  a  soldier,  and  have  seen  some  hard  service,  but  my 
term  of  enlistment  being  expired,  I  was  discharged  not  long 
since  from  the  army  at  Valladolid,  and  set  out  on  foot  for  my 
native  village  in  Andalusia.  Yesterday  evening  the  sun  went 
down  as  I  was  traversing  a  great  dry  plain  of  old  Castile." 

"Hold I"  cried  the  governor,  "what  is  this  you  say?  Old 
Castile  is  some  two  or  three  hundred  miles  from  this." 

"Even  so,"  replied  the  soldier,  coolly,  "I  told  your  excel 
lency  I  had  strange  things  to  relate— but  not  more  strange 
than  true— as  your  excellency  will  find,  if  you  will  deign  me  a 
patient  hearing." 

"  Proceed,  culprit,"  said  the  governor,  twirling  up  his  mus- 
tachios. 

"As  the  sun  went  down,"  continued  the  soldier,  "  I  cast  my 
eyes  about  in  search  of  some  quarters  for  the  night,  but  far  as 
my  sight  could  reach,  there  were  no  signs  of  habitation.  I  saw- 
that  I  should  have  to  make  my  bed  on  the  naked  plain,  with 
my  knapsack  for  a  pillow ;  but  your  excellency  is  an  old  sol 
dier,  and  knows  that  to  one  who  has  been  in  the  wars,  such  a 
night's  lodging  is  no  great  hardship." 

The  governor  nodded  assent,  as  he  drew  his  pocket-handker 
chief  out  of  the  basket-hilt  of  his  sword,  to  drive  away  a  fly 
that  buzzed  about  his  nose. 

"Well,  to  make  a  long  story  short,"  continued  the  soldier, 
"  I  trudged  forward  for  several  miles,  until  I  came  to  a  bridge 
over  a  deep  ravine,  through  which  ran  a  little  thread  of  water, 
almost  dried  up  by  the  summer  heat.  At  one  end  of  the  bridge 


GOVERNOR  MANGO  AND  THE  SOLDIER.          179 

wat.  a  Moorish  tower,  tlie  upper  part  all  in  ruins,  but  a  vault 
in  the  foundations  quite  entire.  Here,  thinks  I,  is  a  good  place 
to  make  a  halt.  So  I  went  down  to  the  stream,  took  a  hearty 
drink,  for  the  water  was  pure  and  sweet,  and  I  was  parched 
with  thirst,  then  opening  my  wallet,  I  took  out  an  onion  and 
a  few  crusts,  which  were  all  my  provisions,  and  seating  myself 
on  a  stone  on  the  margin  of  the  stream,  began  to  make  my 
supper ;  intending  afterwards  to  quarter  myself  for  the  night 
in  the  vault  of  the  tower,  and  capital  quarters  they  would  have 
Hjeen  for  a  campaigner  just  from  the  wars,  as  your  excellency, 
who  is  an  old  soldier,  may  suppose." 

"I  have  put  up  gladly  with  worse  in  my  time,"  said  the 
governor,  returning  his  pocket-handkerchief  into  the  hilt  of 
his  sword. 

"While  I  was  quietly  crunching  my  crust,"  pursued  the 
soldier,  ' '  I  heard  something  stir  within  the  vault ;  I  listened : 
it  was  the  tramp  of  a  horse.  By  and  by  a  man  came  forth 
from  a  door  in  the  foundation  of  the  tower,  close  by  the 
water's  edge,  leading  a  powerful  horse  by  the  bridle.  I  could 
not  well  make  out  what  he  was  by  the  starlight.  It  had  a 
suspicious  look  to  be  lurking  among  the  ruins  of  a  tower  in 
that  wild  solitary  place.  He  might  be  a  mere  wayfarer  like 
myself ;  he  might  be  a  contrabandista ;  he  might  be  a  banda- 
lero!  What  of  that,— thank  heaven  and  my  poverty,  I  had 
nothing  to  lose, — so  I  sat  still  and  crunched  my  crusts. 

"He  led  his  horse  to  the  water  close  by  where  I  was  sitting, 
so  that  I  had  a  fair  opportunity  of  reconnoitring  him.  To  my 
surprise,  he  was  dressed  in  a  Moorish  garb,  with  a  cuirass  of 
steel,  and  a  polished  skullcap,  that  I  distinguished  by  the  re 
flection  of  the  stars  upon  it.  His  horse,  too,  was  harnessed  in 
the  Morisco  fashion,  with  great  shovel  stirrups.  He  led  him, 
as  I  said,  to  the  side  of  the  stream,  into  which  the  animal 
plunged  his  head  almost  to  the  eyes,  and  drank  until  I  thought 
he  would  have  burst. 

"  'Comrade,'  said  I,  'your  steed  drinks  well;  it's  a  good  sign 
when  a  horse  plunges  his  muzzle  bravely  into  the  water.' 

"'He  may  well  drink,'  said  the  stranger,  speaking  with  a 
Moorish  accent;  'it  is  a  good  year  since  he  had  his  last 
draught.' 

"  'By  Santiago,'  said  I,  'that  beats  even  the  camels  that  I 
have  seen  in  Africa.  But  come,  you  seem  to  be  something  of 
a  soldier,  won't  you  sit  down,  and  take  part  of  a  soldier's  fare?' 
-In  fact,  I  felt  the  want  of  a  companion  in  this  lonely  place, 


180  THE  ALHAMBRA 

and  was  willing  to  put  up  with  an  infidel.  Besides,  as  you* 
excellency  well  knows,  a  soldier  is  never  very  particular  about 
the  faith  of  his  company,  and  soldiers  of  all  countries  are  com 
rades  on  peaceable  ground." 

The  governor  again  nodded  assent. 

''Well,  as  I  was  saying,  I  invited  him  to  share  my  supper, 
guch  as  it  was,  for  I  could  not  do  less  in  common  hospitality. 

"'I  have  no  time  to  pause  for  meat  or  drink,'  said  he,  '1 
have  a  long  journey  to  make  before  morning.' 

"  '  In  which  direction? '  said  I. 

"  '  Andalusia,'  said  he. 

"  '  Exactly  my  route,'  said  I.  '  So  as  you  won't  stop  and  eat 
with  me,  perhaps  you'll  let  me  mount  and  ride  with  you.  1 
see  your  horse  is  of  a  powerful  frame :  I'll  warrant  he'll  carry 
double.' 

"'Agreed,'  said  the  trtfoper;  and  it  would  not  have  been 
civil  and  soldierlike  to  refuse,  especially  as  I  had  offered  to 
ehare  my  supper  with  him.  So  up  he  mounted,  and  up  I 
mounted  behind  him. 

"  ' Hold  fast,'  said  he,  'my  steed  goes  like  the  wind.' 

"  '  Never  fear  me,'  said  I,  and  so  off  we  set. 

"  From  a  walk  the  horse  soon  passed  to  a  trot,  from  a  trot  to 
a  gallop,  and  from  a  gallop  to  a  harum-scarum  scamper.  It 
seemed  as  if  rocks,  trees,  houses,  everything,  flew  hurry-scurry 
behind  us. 

"  '  What  town  is  this? '  said  I. 

"  'Segovia,'  said  he;  and  before  the  words  were  out  of  his 
mouth,  the  towers  of  Segovia  were  out  of  sight.  We  swept  up 
the  Guadarama  mountains,  and  down  by  the  Escurial ;  and  we 
skirted  the  walls  of  Madrid,  and  we  scoured  away  across  the 
plains  of  La  Mancha.  In  this  way  we  went  up  hill  and  down 
dale,  by  towns  and  cities  all  buried  in  deep  sleep,  and  across 
mountains,  and  plains,  and  rivers,  just  glimmering  in  the  star' 
light. 

"  To  make  a  long  story  short,  and  not  to  fatigue  your  excel 
lency,  the  trooper  suddenly  pulled  up  on  the  side  of  a  moun 
tain.  '  Here  we  are,'  said  he,  '  at  the  end  of  our  journey.' 

"I  looked  about  but  could  see  no  signs  of  habitation:  noth 
ing  but  the  mouth  of  a  cavern:  while  I  looked,  I  saw  multitudes 
of  people  in  Moorish  dresses,  some  on  horseback,  some  on  foot, 
arriving  as  if  borne  by  the  wind  from  all  points  of  the  compass, 
and  hurrying  into  the  mouth  of  the  cavern  like  bees  into  a 
hive.  Before  I  could  ask  a  cfuestion,  the  trooper  struck  his 


GOVERNOR  MANGO  AND  THE  SOLDIEk. 

long  Moorish  spurs  into  the  horse's  flanks,  and  dashed  in  with 
the  throng.  We  passed  along  a  steep  winding  way  that  de* 
scended  into  the  very  bowels  of  the  mountain.  As  we  pushed; 
on,  a  light  began  to  glimmer  up  by  little  and  little,  like  thi 
first  glimmerings  of  day,  but  what  caused  it,  I  could  not  difl* 
cover.  It  grew  stronger  and  stronger,  and  enabled  me  to  see 
everything  around.  I  now  noticed  as  we  passed  along,  great, 
:averns  opening  to  the  right  and  left,  like  halls  in  an  arsenal. 
In  some  there  were  shields,  and  helmets,  and  cuirasses,  and 
lances,  and  scimitars  hanging  against  the  walls;  in  others, 
there  were  great  heaps  of  warlike  munitions  and  camp  equi 
page  lying 'upon  the  ground. 

"It  would  have  done  your  excellency's  heart  good,  being  an 
old  soldier,  to  have  seen  such  grand  provision  for  war.  Then 
in  other  caverns  there  were  long  rows  of  horsemen,  armed  to 
the  teeth,  with  lances  raised  and  banners  unfurled,  all  ready 
for  the  field ;  but  they  all  sat  motionless  in  their  saddles  like 
so  many  statues.  In  other  halls,  were  warriors  sleeping  on  the 
ground  beside  their  horses,  and  foot  soldiers  in  groups,  ready 
to  fall  into  the  ranks.  All  were  in  old-fashioned  Moorish 
dresses  and  armour. 

"Well,  your  excellency,  to  cut  a  long  story  short,  we  at 
length  entered  an  immense  cavern,  or  I  might  say  palace,  of 
grotto  work,  the  walls  of  which  seemed  to  be  veined  with  gold 
and  silver,  and  to  sparkle  with  diamonds  and  sapphires,  and 
all  kinds  of  precious  stones.  At  the  upper  end  sat  a  Moorish 
king  on  a  golden  throne,  with  his  nobles  on  each  side,  and  a 
guard  of  African  blacks  with  drawn  scimitars.  All  the  crowd 
that  continued  to  flock  in,  and  amounted  to  thousands  and 
thousands,  passed  one  by  one  before  his  throne,  each  paying 
homage  as  he  passed.  Some  of  the  multitude  were  dressed  in 
magnificent  robes,  without  stain  or  blemish,  and  sparkling 
with  jewels ;  others  in  burnished  and  enamelled  armour  •  while 
others  were  in  mouldered  and  mildewed  garments,  and  in 
armour  all  battered  and  dinted,  and  covered  with  rust. 

"I  had  hitherto  held  my  tongue,  for  your  excellency  weQ 
knows,  it  is  not  for  a  soldier  to  ask  many  questions  when  on 
duty,  but  I  could  keep  silence  no  longer. 

"  'Pr'ythee,  comrade,'  said  I,  'what  is  the  meaning  of  all 
this?' 

"  'This,'  said  the  trooper,  '  is  a  great  and  powerful  mystery. 
Know,  O  Christian,  that  you  see  before  you  the  court  and 
army  of  Boabdil,  the  last  king  of  Granada.' 


182  TEE  ALHAMBRA. 

"  '  What  is  this  you  tell  me ! '  cried  I.  '  Boabdu  and  hia 
court  were  exiled  from  the  land  hundreds  of  years  agone,  and 
all  died  in  Africa.' 

"  'So  it  is  recorded  in  your  lying  chronicles,'  replied  the 
Moor,  'but  know  that  Boabdil  and  the  warriors  who  made 
the  last  struggle  for  Granada  were  all  shut  up  in  this  moun 
tain  by  powerful  enchantment.  As  to  the  king  and  army  that 
marched  forth  from  Granada  at  the  tune  of  the  surrender, 
they  were  a  mere  phantom  train,  or  spirits  and  demons  per. 
mitted  to  assume  those  shapes  to  deceive  the  Christian  sove 
reigns.  And  furthermore  let  me  tell  you,  friend,  that  all  Spain 
is  a  country  under  the  power  of  enchantment.  There  is  not  a 
mountain-cave,  not  a  lonely  watch-tower  in  the  plains,  nor 
ruined  castle  on  the  hills,  but  has  some  spell-bound  warriors 
sleeping  from  age  to  age  within  its  vaults,  until  the  sins  are 
expiated  for  which  Allah  permitted  the  dominion  to  pass  for  a 
time  out  of  the  hands  of  the  faithful.  Once  every  year,  on  the 
eve  of  St.  John,  they  are  released  from  enchantment  from  sun 
set  to  sunrise,  and  permitted  to  repair  here  to  pay  homage  to 
their  sovereign ;  and  the  crowds  which  you  beheld  swarming 
into  the  cavern  are  Moslem  warriors  from  their  haunts  in  all 
parts  of  Spain;  for  my  own  part,  you  saw  the  ruined  tower  of 
the  bridge  hi  old  Castile,  where  I  have  now  wintered  and  sum 
mered  for  many  hundred  years,  and  where  I  must  be  back 
%gain  by  day -break.  As  to  the  battalions  of  horse  and  foot 
irtu'ch  you  beheld  drawn  up  in  array  in  the  neighbouring  cav 
erns,  they  are  the  spell-bound  warriors  of  Granada.  It  is 
Written  in  the  book  of  fate,  that  when  the  enchantment  is 
broken,  Boabdil  will  descend  from  the  mountains  at  the  head 
•f  this  army,  resume  his  throne  in  the  Alhambra  and  his  sway 
«»f  Granada,  and  gathering  together  the  enchanted  warriors 
from  all  parts  of  Spain,  will  reconquer  the  peninsula,  and  re 
store  it  to  Moslem  rule.' 

"  'And  when  shall  this  happen?'  said  I. 

"'Allah  alone  knows.  We  had  hoped  the  day  of  deliver 
ance  was  at  hand ;  but  there  reigns  at  present  a  vigilant  gov 
ernor  in  Alhambra,  a  staunch  old  soldier,  the  same  called 
Governor  Manco ;  while  such  a  warrior  holds  command  of  the 
my  outpost,  and  stands  ready  to  check  the  first  irruption 
from  the  mountain,  I  fear  Boabdil  and  his  soldiery  must  be 
content  to  rest  upon  their  arms.' " 

Here  the  governor  raised  himself  somewhat  perpendicularly, 
adjusted  his  sword,  and  twirled  up  his  mustachios. 


GOVERNOR  MANGO  AND   THE  SOLDIER.  183 

"  To  make  a  long  story  short,  and  not  to  fatigue  your  excel 
lency,  the  trooper  having  given  me  this  account,  dismounted 
from  his  steed. 

"  '  Tarry  here,'  said  he,  '  and  guard  my  steed,  while  I  go  and 
bow  the  knee  to  Boabdil.'  So  saying,  he  strode  away  among 
the  throng  that  pressed  forward  to  the  throne. 

"What's  to  be  done?  thought  I,  when  thus  left  to  myself. 
Shall  I  wait  here  until  this  infidel  returns  to  whisk  me  off  on 
his  goblin  steed,  the  Lord  knows  where?  or  shall  I  make  the 
most  of  my  time,  and  beat  a  retreat  from  this  hobgoblin  com 
munity?— A  soldier's  mind  is  soon  made  up,  as  your  excellency 
well  knows.  As  to  the  horse,  he  belonged  to  an  avowed  enemy 
of  the  faith  and  the  realm,  and  was  a  fair  prize  according  to 
the  rules  of  war.  So  hoisting  myself  from  the  crupper  into 
the  saddle,  I  turned  the  reins,  struck  the  Moorish  stirrups 
into  the  sides  of  the  steed,  and  put  him  to  make  the  best  of  his 
way  out  of  the  passage  by  which  we  had  entered.  As  we 
scoured  by  the  halls  where  the  Moslem  horsemen  sat  in 
motionless  battalions,  I  thought  I  heard  the  clang  of  armour, 
and  a  hollow  murmur  of  voices.  I  gave  the  steed  another 
taste  of  the  stirrups,  and  doubled  my  speed.  There  was  now  a 
sound  behind  me  like  a  rushing  blast ;  I  heard  the  clatter  of  a 
thousand  hoofs ;  a  countless  throng  overtook  me ;  I  was  borne 
along  in  the  press,  and  hurled  forth  from  the  mouth  of  the 
cavern,  while  thousands  of  shadowy  forms  were  swept  off  in 
every  direction  by  the  four  winds  of  heaven. 

"In  the  whirl  and  confusion  of  the  scene,  I  was  thrown 
from  the  saddle,  and  fell  senseless  to  the  earth.  When  I  came 
to  myself  I  was  lying  on  the  brow  of  a  hill,  with  the  Arabian 
steed  standing  beside  me,  for  in  falling  my  arm  had  slipped 
within  the  bridle,  which,  I  presume,  prevented  his  whisking 
off  to  old  Castile. 

"Your  excellency  may  easily  judge  of  my  surprise  on  look* 
ing  round,  to  behold  hedges  of  aloes  and  Indian  figs,  and  other 
proofs  of  a  southern  climate,  and  see  a  great  city  below  me 
with  towers  and  palaces,  and  a  grand  cathedral.  I  descended 
the  hill  cautiously,  leading  my  steed,  for  I  was  afraid  to 
mount  him  again,  lest  he  should  play  me  some  slippery  trick. 
As  I  descended,  I  met  with  your  patrol,  who  let  me  into  the 
secret  that  it  was  Granada  that  lay  before  me :  and  that  I  was 
actually  under  the  walls  of  the  Alhambra,  the  fortress  of  the 
redoubted  Governor  Manco,  the  terror  of  all  enchanted  Mos 
lems.  When  I  heard  this.  I  determined  at  once  to  seek  yom 


184  TH&  ALHAMBRA. 

excellency,  to  inform  you  of  all  that  I  had  seen,  and  to  warn 
you  of  the  perils  that  surround  and  undermine  you,  that  you 
may  take  measures  in  time  to  guard  your  fortress,  and  the 
kingdom  itself,  from  this  intestine  army  that  lurks  in  the  very 
bowels  of  the  land." 

"And  pr'ythee,  friend,  you  who  are  a  veteran  campaigner, 
and  have  seen  so  much  service,"  said  the  governor,  "how 
would  you  advise  me  to  go  about  to  prevent  this  evil?" 

"It  is  not  for  an  humble  private  of  the  ranks,"  said  the 
soldier  modestly,  "to  pretend  to  instruct  a  commander  of 
your  excellency's  sagacity;  but  it  appears  to  me  that  your 
excellency  might  cause  all  the  caves  and  entrances  into  the 
mountain  to  be  walled  up  with  solid  mason-work,  so  that 
Boabdil  and  his  army  might  be  completely  oorked  up  in  their 
subterranean  habitation.  If  the  good  father  too,"  added  the 
soldier,  reverently  bowing  to  the  friar,  and  devoutly  crossing 
himself,  "would  consecrate  the  barricadoes  with  his  blessing, 
and  put  up  a  few  crosses  and  reliques,  and  images  of  saints,  I 
think  they  might  withstand  all  the  power  of  infidel  enchant 
ments." 

"  They  doubtless  would  be  of  great  avail,"  said  the  friar. 

The  governor  now  placed  his  arm  a-kimbo,  with  his  hand 
resting  on  the  hilt  of  his  toledo,  fixed  his  eye  upon  the  soldier, 
and  gently  wagging  his  head  from  one  side  to  the  other: 

"So,  friend,"  said  he,  "  then  you  really  suppose  I  am  to  be 
gulled  with  this  cock-and-bull  story  about  enchanted  moun 
tains,  and  enchanted  Moors.  Hark  ye,  culprit !— not  another 
word. — An  old  soldier  you  may  be,  but  you'll  find  you  have 
an  old  soldier  to  deal  with ;  and  one  not  easily  outgeneralled. 
Ho!  guard  there! — put  this  fellow  in  irons." 

The  demure  handmaid  would  have  put  in  a  word  in  favour 
of  the  prisoner,  but  the  governor  silenced  her  with  a  look. 

As  they  were  pinioning  the  soldier,  one  of  the  guards  felt 
something  of  bulk  in  his  pocket,  and  drawing  it  forth,  found  a 
long  leathern  purse  that  appeared  to  be  well  filled.  Holding  it 
by  one  corner,  he  turned  out  the  contents  on  the  table  before 
the  governor,  and  never  did  freebooter's  bag  make  more  gor 
geous  delivery.  Out  tumbled  rings  and  jewels,  and  rosaries  of 
pearls,  and  sparkling  diamond  crosses,  and  a  profusion  of  an- 
eient  golden  coin,  some  of  which  fell  jingling  to  the  floor,  and 
rolled  away  to  the  uttermost  parts  of  the  chamber. 

For  a  time  the  functions  of  justice  were  suspended :  there 
was  a  universal  scramble  after  the  glittering  fugitives.  The 


GOVERNOR  MANCO  AND  TUE  SOLDIER.  185 

governor  alone,  who  was  imbued  with  true  Spanish  pride, 
maintained  his  stately  decorum,  though  his  eye  betrayed  a 
little  anxiety  until  the  last  coin  and  jewel  was  restored  to  the 
sack. 

The  friar  was  not  so  calm ;  his  whole  face  glowed  like  a  fur 
nace,  and  his  eyes  twinkled  and  flashed  at  sight  of  the  rosaries 
and  crosses. 

"  Sacrilegious  wretch  that  thou  art,"  exclaimed  he,  "what 
church  or  sanctuary  hast  thou  been  plundering  of  these  sacred 
reliques?" 

"Neither  one  nor  the  other,  holy  father.  If  they  be  sacrile 
gious  spoils,  they  must  have  been  taken  in  times  long  past  by 
the  infidel  trooper  I  have  mentioned.  I  was  just  going  to  tell 
his  excellency,  when  he  interrupted  me,  that,  on  taking  pos 
session  of  the  trooper's  horse,  I  unhooked  a  leathern  sack  which 
hung  at  the  saddle  bow,  and  which,  I  presume,  contained  the 
plunder  of  his  campaignings  in  days  of  old,  when  the  Moors 
overran  the  country." 

"Mighty  well, — at  present  you  will  make  up  your  mind  to 
take  up  your  quarters  in  a  chamber  of  the  Vermilion  towers, 
Which,  though  not  under  a  magic  spell,  will  hold  you  as  safe  as 
any  cave  of  your  enchanted  Moors." 

"Tour  excellency  will  do  as  you  think  proper,"  said  the  pri 
soner  coolly.  ' '  I  shall  be  thankful  to  your  excellency  for  any 
accommodation  in  the  fortress.  A  soldier  who  has  been  in  the 
wars,  as  your  excellency  well  knows,  is  not  particular  about 
his  lodgings ;  and  provided  I  have  a  snug  dungeon  and  regular 
rations,  I  shall  manage  to  make  myself  comfortable.  I  would 
only  entreat,  that  while  your  excellency  is  so  careful  about  me, 
you  would  have  an  eye  to  your  fortress,  and  think  on  the  hint 
I  dropped  about  stopping  up  the  entrances  to  the  moun 
tain." 

Here  ended  the  scene.  The  prisoner  was  conducted  to  a 
strong  dungeon  in  the  Vermilion  towers,  the  Arabian  steed 
was  led  to  his  excellency's  stable,  and  the  trooper's  sack  was 
deposited  in  his  excellency's  strong  box.  To  the  latter,  it  is 
true,  the  friar  made  some  demur,  questioning  whether  the 
sacred  reliques,  which  were  evidently  sacrilegious  spoils,  should 
not  be  placed  in  custody  of  the  church;  but  as  the  governor 
was  peremptory  on  the  subject,  and  was  absolute  lord  in  the 
Alhambra,  the  friar  discreetly  dropped  the  discussion,  but  de 
termined  to  convey  intelligence  of  the  fact  to  the  church  dig 
nitaries  in  Granada,  ~ 


186  THE  ALHAMBRA. 

To  explain  these  prompt  and  rigid  measures  on  the  part  ot 
old  Governor  Manco,  it  is  proper  to  observe,  that  about  this 
time  the  Alpuxarra  mountains  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Gra 
nada  were  terribly  infected  by  a  gang  of  robbers,  under  the 
command  of  a  daring  chief  named  Manuel  Borasco,  who  were 
accustomed  to  prowl  about  the  country,  and  even  to  enter  the 
city  in  various  disguises  to  gain  intelligence  of  the  departure 
of  convoys  of  merchandise,  or  travellers  with  well-lined  purses, 
whom  they  took  care  to  waylay  in  distant  and  solitary  passes 
of  their  road.  These  repeated  and  daring  outrages  had  awak 
ened  the  attention  of  government,  and  the  commanders  of  the 
various  posts  had  received  instructions  to  be  on  the  alert,  and 
to  take  up  all  suspicious  stragglers.  Governor  Manco  was  par 
ticularly  zealous,  in  consequence  of  the  various  stigmas  that 
had  been  cast  upon  his  fortress,  and  he  now  doubted  not  that 
he  had  entrapped  some  formidable  desperado  of  this  gang. 

In  the  mean  time  the  story  took  wind,  and  became  the  talk 
not  merely  of  the  fortress,  but  of  the  whole  city  of  Granada. 
It  was  said  that  the  noted  robber,  Manuel  Borasco,  the  terror 
of  the  Alpuxarras,  had  fallen  into  the  clutches  of  old  Governor 
Manco,  and  been  cooped  up  by  him  in  a  dungeon  of  the  Ver 
milion  towers,  and  every  one  who  had  been  robbed  by  him 
flocked  to  recognize  the  marauder.  The  Vermilion  towers,  as 
is  well  known,  stand  apart  from  the  Alhambra,  on  a  sister  hill 
separated  from  the  main  fortress  by  the  ravine,  down  which 
passes  the  main  avenue.  There  were  no  outer  walls,  but  a  sen 
tinel  patrolled  before  the  tower.  The  window  of  the  chamber 
in  which  the  soldier  was  confined  was  strongly  grated,  and 
looked  upon  a  small  esplanade.  Here  the  good  folks  of  Gra 
nada  repaired  to  gaze  at  him,  as  they  would  at  a  laughing 
hyena  grinning  through  the  cage  of  a  menagerie.  Nobody, 
however,  recognized  him  for  Manuel  Borasco,  for  that  terrible 
robber  was  noted  for  a  ferocious  physiognomy,  and  had  by  no 
means  the  good-humoured  squint  of  the  prisoner.  Visitors 
came  not  merely  from  the  city,  but  from  all  parts  of  the  coun 
try,  but  nobody  knew  him,  and  there  began  to  be  doubts  in  the 
minds  of  the  common  people,  whether  there  might  not  be  some 
truth  in  his  story.  That  Boabdil  and  his  army  were  shut  up  in 
the  mountain,  was  an  old  tradition  which  many  of  the  ancient 
inhabitants  had  heard  from  their  fathers.  Numbers  went  up 
to  the  mountain  of  the  Sun,  or  rather  of  St.  Elena,  in  search  of 
the  cave  mentioned  by  the  soldier ;  and  saw  and  peeped  into 
the  deep  dark  pit,  descending,  no  one  knows  how  far,  into  the 


GOVERNOR  MAN  CO  AND   THE  SOLDIER.  187 

mountain,  and  which  remains  there  to  this  day,  the  fabled  en 
trance  to  the  subterranean  abode  of  Boabdil. 

By  degrees,  the  soldier  became  popular  with  the  common 
people.  A  freebooter  of  the  mountains  is  by  no  means  the  op 
probrious  character  in  Spain  that  a  robber  is  in  any  other  coun 
try  ;  on  the  contrary,  he  is  a  kind  of  chivalrous  personage  in 
the  eyes  of  the  lower  classes.  There  is  always  a  disposition, 
also,  to  cavil  at  the  conduct  of  those  in  command,  and  many 
began  to  murmur  at  the  high-handed  measures  of  old  Governor 
Manco,  and  to  look  upon  the  prisoner  in  the  light  of  a  martyr. 

The  soldier,  moreover,  was  a  merry,  waggish  fellow,  that 
had  a  joke  for  every  one  who  came  near  his  window,  and  a 
soft  speech  for  every  female.  He  had  procured  an  old  gui 
tar  also,  and  would  sit  by  his  window  and  sing  ballads  and 
love-ditties  to  the  delight  of  the  women  of  the  neighbour 
hood,  who  would  assemble  on  the  esplanade  in  the  evenings, 
and  dance  boleros  to  his  music.  Having  trimmed  off  his 
rough  beard,  his  sunburnt  face  found  favour  in  the  eyes  of 
the  fair,  and  the  demure  handmaid  of  the  governor  declared 
that  his  squint  was  perfectly  irresistible.  This  kind-hearted 
damsel  had,  from  the  first,  evinced  a  deep  sympathy  in  his 
fortunes,  and  having  in  vain  tried  to  mollify  the  governor, 
had  set  to  work  privately  to  mitigate  the  rigour  of  his  dis 
pensations.  Every  day  she  brought  the  prisoner  some  crumbs 
of  comfort  which  had  fallen  from  the  governor's  table,  or 
been  abstracted  from  his  larder,  together  with,  now  and  then, 
a  consoling  bottle  of  choice  Val  de  Peiias,  or  rich  Malaga. 

While  this  petty  treason  was  going  on  in  the  very  centre  of 
the  old  governor's  citadel,  a  storm  of  open  war  was  brewing  up 
among  his  external  foes.  The  circumstance  of  a  bag  of  gold 
and  jewels  having  been  found  upon  the  person  of  the  supposed 
robber,  had  been  reported  with  many  exaggerations  in  Gra 
nada.  A  question  of  territorial  jurisdiction  was  immediately 
started  by  the  governor's  inveterate  rival,  the  captain-general. 
He  insisted  that  the  prisoner  had  been  captured  without  the  pre 
cincts  of  the  Alhambra,  and  within  the  rules  of  his  authority. 
He  demanded  his  body,  therefore,  and  the  spolia  opima  taken 
with  him.  Due  information  having  been  carried  likewise  by 
the  friar  to  the  grand  Inquisitor,  of  the  crosses,  and  the  rosa 
ries,  and  other  reliques  contained  in  the  bag,  he  claimed  the  cul 
prit,  as  having  been  guilty  of  sacrilege,  and  insisted  that  his 
plunder  was  due  to  the  church,  and  his  body  to  the  next  Auto 
c(a  Fe.  The  feuds  ran  high;  the  governor  was  furious,  and 


1S8  TUB  ALHAMBRA. 

eworo,  rather  than  surrender  his  captive,  he  would  hang  him 
up  within  the  Alhambra,  as  a  spy  caught  within  the  purlieus 
of  the  fortress. 

The  captain-general  threatened  to  send  a  body  of  soldiers  to 
transfer  the  prisoner  from  the  Vermilion  towers  to  the  city. 
The  grand  Inquisitor  was  equally  bent  upon  despatching  a 
number  of  the  familiars  of  the  holy  office.  Word  was  brought 
late  at  night  to  the  governor,  of  these  machinations.  "Let 
them  come,"  said  he,  "they'll  find  me  beforehand  with  them. 
He  must  rise  bright  and  early  who  would  take  in  an  old  sol 
dier."  He  accordingly  issued  orders  to  have  the  prisoner  re 
moved  at  daybreak  to  the  Donjon  Keep  within  the  walls  of  tho 
Alhambra:  "And  d'ye  hear,  child,"  said  he  to  his  demuro 
handmaid,  "tap  at  my  door,  and  wake  me  before  cock-crow- 
ing,  that  I  may  see  to  the  matter  myself." 

The  day  dawned,  the  cock  crowed,  but  nobody  tapped  at  the 
door  of  the  governor.  The  sun  rose  high  above  the  mountain- 
tops,  and  glittered  in  at  his  casement  ere  the  governor  was 
awakened  from  his  morning  dreams  by  his  veteran  corporal, 
who  stood  before  him  with  terror  stamped  upon  his  iron 
visage. 

"He's  off  I  he's  gone!"  cried  the  corporal,  gasping  for  breath. 

"Who's  off?— who's  gone?" 

"  The  soldier — the  robber— the  devil,  for  aught  I  know.  His 
dungeon  is  empty,  but  the  door  locked.  No  one  knows  how 
he  has  escaped  out  of  it. " 

"  Who  saw  him  last?" 

"Your  handmaid, — she  brought  him  his  supper." 

"Let  her  be  called  instantly." 

Here  was  new  matter  of  confusion.  The  chamber  of  the 
demure  damsel  was  likewise  empty;  her  bed  had  not  been 
slept  in ;  she  had  doubtless  gone  off  with  the  culprit,  as  she 
had  appeared,  for  some  days  past,  to  have  frequent  conversa 
tions  with  him. 

This  was  wounding  the  old  governor  in  a  tender  part,  but  he 
had  scarce  time  to  wince  at  it,  when  new  misfortunes  broko 
Upon  his  view.  On  going  into  his  cabinet,  he  found  his  strong 
box  open,  the  leathern  purse  of  the  trooper  extracted,  and  with 
it  a  couple  of  corpulent  bags  of  doubloons. 

But  how,  and  which  way  had  the  fugitives  escaped?  A 
peasant  who  lived  in  a  cottage  by  the  road-side  leading  up 
into  the  Sierra,  declared  that  he  had  heard  the  tramp  of  a 
powerful  steed,  just  before  daybreak,  passing  up  into  the 


LEGEND   OF  THE  TWO  DISCREET  STATUES.       189 

mountains.  He  had  looked  out  at  his  casement,  and  could 
just  distinguish  a  horseman,  with  a  female  seated  before  him. 
"Search  the  stables,"  cried  Governor  Manco.  The  stables 
were  searched;  all  the  horses  were  in  their  stalls,  excepting 
the  Arabian  steed.  In  his  place  was  a  stout  cudgel  tied  to 
the  manger,  and  on  it  a  label  bearing  these  words,  "  A  gift  to 
Governor  Manco,  from  an  old  soldier." 


LEGEND  OF  THE  TWO  DISCREET  STATUES. 

THERE  lived  once,  in  a  waste  apartment  of  the  Alhambra,  a 
merry  little  fellow  named  Lope  Sanchez,  who  worked  in  the 
gardens,  and  was  as  brisk  and  blithe  as  a  grasshopper,  singing 
all  day  long.  He  was  the  life  and  soul  of  the  fortress ;  when 
his  work  was  over,  he  would  sit  on  one  of  the-  stone  benches  of 
the  esplanade  and  strum  his  guitar,  and  sing  long  ditties  about 
the  Cid,  and  Bernardo  del  Carpio,  and  Fernando  del  Pulgar, 
and  other  Spanish  heroes,  for  the  amusement  of  the  old  sol 
diers  of  the  fortress,  or  would  strike  up  a  merrier  tune,  and  set 
the  girls  dancing  boleros  and  fandangos. 

Like  most  little  men,  Lope  Sanchez  had  a  strapping  buxom 
dame  for  a  wife,  who  could  almost  have  put  him  in  her  pocket ; 
but  he  lacked  the  usual  poor  man's  lot, — instead  of  ten  chil 
dren  he  had  but  one.  This  was  a  little  black-eyed  girl,  about 
twelve  years  of  age,  named  Sanchica,  who  was  as  merry  as 
himself,  and  the  delight  of  his  heart.  She  played  about  him 
as  he  worked  in  the  gardens,  danced  to  his  guitar  as  he  sat  in 
the  shade,  and  ran  as  wild  as  a  young  fawn  about  the  groves, 
and  alleys,  and  ruined  halls  of  the  Alhambra. 

It  was  now  the  eve  of  the  blessed  St.  John,  and  the  holyday- 
loving  gossips  of  the  Alhambra,  men,  women,  and  children, 
went  up  at  sight  to  the  mountain  of  the  Sun,  which  rises 
above  the  Generaliffe,  to  keep  their  midsummer  vigil  on  its 
level  summit.  It  was  a  bright  moonlight  night,  and  all  the 
mountains  were  gray  and  silvery,  and  the  city,  with  its  domes 
and  spires,  lay  in  shadows  below,  and  the  Vega  was  like  a 
fairy  land,  with  haunted  streams  gleaming  among  its  dusky 
groves.  On  the  highest  part  of  the  mountain  they  lit  up  a 
bale  fire,  according  to  an  old  custom  of  the  country  handed 
down  from  the  Moors.  The  inhabitants  of  the  surrounding 


190  THE  ALHAMBRA. 

country  were  keeping  a  similar  vigil,  and  bale  fires  here  and 
there  in  the  Vega,  and  along  the  folds  of  the  mountains,  blazed 
up  palely  in  the  moonlight. 

The  evening  was  gaily  passed  in  dancing  to  the  guitar  of 
Lope  Sanchez,  who  was  never  so  joyous  as  when  on  a  holiday 
revel  of  the  kind.  While  the  dance  was  going  on,  the  little 
Sanchica  with  some  of  her  playmates  sported  among  the  ruins 
of  an  old  Moorish  fort  that  crowns  the  mountain,  when,  in 
gathering  pebbles  in  the  fosse,  she  found  a  small  hand,  curi 
ously  carved  of  jet,  the  fingers  closed,  and  the  thumb  firmly 
clasped  upon  them.  Overjoyed  with  her  good  fortune,  she 
ran  to  her  mother  with  her  prize.  It  immediately  became  a 
subject  of  sage  speculation,  and  was  eyed  by  some  with  super 
stitious  distrust.  "Throw  it  away,"  said  one,  " it  is  Moorish, 
—depend  upon  it  there's  mischief  and  witchcraft  in  it."  "  By 
no  means,"  said  another,  "you  may  sell  it  for  something  to 
the  jewellers  of  the  Zacatin."  In  the  midst  of  this  discussion 
an  old  tawny  soldier  drew  near,  who  had  served  in  Africa,  and 
was  as  swarthy  as  a  Moor.  He  examined  the  hand  with  a 
knowing  look.  "I  have  seen  things  of  this  kind,"  said  he, 
"  among  the  Moors  of  Barbary.  It  is  of  great  value  to  guard 
against  the  evil  eye,  and  all  kinds  of  spells  and  enchantments. 
I  give  you  joy,  friend  Lope,  this  bodes  good  luck  to  your 
child." 

Upon  hearing  this,  the  wife  of  Lope  Sanchez  tied  the  little 
hand  of  jet  to  a  riband,  and  hung  it  round  the  neck  of  her 
daughter. 

The  sight  of  this  talisman  called  up  all  the  favourite  super 
stitions  about  the  Moors.  The  dance  was  neglected,  and  they 
sat  in  groups  on  the  ground,  telling  old  legendary  tales  handed 
down  from  their  ancestors.  Some  of  their  stories  turned  upon 
the  wonders  of  the  very  mountain  upon  which  they  were 
seated,  which  is  a  famous  hobgoblin  region. 

One  ancient  crone  gave  a  long  account  of  the  subterranean 
palace  in  the  bowels  of  that  mountain,  where  Boabdil  and  all 
his  Moslem  court  are  said  to  remain  enchanted.  "Among 
yonder  ruins,"  said  she,  pointing  to  some  crumbling  walls  and 
mounds  of  earth  on  a  distant  part  of  the  mountain,  ' '  there  is 
a  deep  black  pit  that  goes  down,  down  into  the  very  heart  of 
the  mountain.  For  all  the  money  in  Granada,  I  would  not 
look  down  into  it.  Once  upon  a  time,  a  poor  man  of  the  Al- 
hambra,  who  tended  goats  upon  this  mountain,  scrambled 
down  into  that  pit  after  a.  kid  that  had  fallen  in.  He  came  out 


LEGEND  OF  THE  TWO  DISCREET  STATUE8.       191 

again,  all  wild  and  staring,  and  told  such  things  of  what  he 
had  seen,  that  every  one  thought  his  brain  was  turned.  He 
raved  for  a  day  or  two  about  hobgoblin  Moors  that  had  pur 
sued  him  in  the  cavern,  and  could  hardly  be  persuaded  to 
drive  his  goats  up  again  to  the  mountain.  He  did  so  at  last, 
but,  poor  man,  he  never  came  down  again.  The  neighbours 
found  his  goats  browsing  about  the  Moorish  ruins,  and  his  hat 
and  mantle  lying  near  the  mouth  of  the  pit,  but  he  was  never 
more  heard  of." 

The  little  Sanchica  listened  with  breathless  attention  to  thi» 
story.  She  was  of  a  curious  nature,  and  felt  immediately  a 
great  hankering  to  peep  into  this  dangerous  pit.  Stealing 
away  from  her  companions,  she  sought  the  distant  ruins,  and 
after  groping  for  some  time  among  them,  came  to  a  small 
hollow  or  basin,  near  the  brow  of  the  mountain,  where  it 
swept  steeply  down  into  the  valley  of  the  Darro.  In  the 
centre  of  this  basin  yawned  the  mouth  of  the  pit.  Sanchica 
ventured  to  the  verge  and  peeped  in.  All  was  black  as  pitch, 
and  gave  an  idea  of  immeasurable  depth.  Her  blood  ran  cold 
—she  drew  back — then  peeped  again — then  would  have  run 
away— then  took  another  peep— the  very  horror  of  the  thing 
was  delightful  to  her.  At  length  she  rolled  a  large  stone,  and 
pushed  it  over  the  brink.  For  some  time  it  fell  in  silence; 
then  struck  some  rocky  projection  with  a  violent  crash,  then 
rebounded  from  side  to  side,  rumbling  and  tumbling,  with  a 
noise  like  thunder,  then  made  a  final  splash  into  water,  far, 
f.ar  below,  and  all  was  again  silent. 

The  silence,  however,  did  not  long  continue.  It  seemed  as 
H  something  had  been  awakened  within  this  dreary  abyss.  A 
murmuring  sound  gradually  rose  out  of  the  pit  like  the  hum 
and  buzz  of  a  bee-hive.  It  grew  louder  and  louder ;  there  was 
the  confusion  of  voices  as  of  a  distant  multitude,  together  with 
the  faint  din  of  arms,  clash  of  cymbals,  and  clangour  of  trum 
pets,  as  if  some  army  were  marshalling  for  battle  in  the  very 
bowels  of  the  mountain. 

The  child  drew  off  with  silent  awe,  and  hastened  back  to 
the  place  where  she  had  left  her  parents  and  their  companions. 
All  were  gone.  The  bale  fire  was  expiring,  and  its  last  wreath 
of  smoke  curling  up  in  the  moonshine.  The  distant  fires  that 
had  blazed  along  the  mountains  and  in  the  Vega  were  all  ex 
tinguished  ;  every  thing  seemed  to  have  sunk  to  repose.  San 
chica  called  her  parents  and  some  of  her  companions  by  name, 
but  received  no  reply.  Sh£  raojlown  the  side  of  the  mountain, 


192  THE  ALHAMBRA. 

and  by  the  gardens  of  the  Generaliffe,  until  she  arrived  In  th* 
alley  of  trees  leading  to  the  Alhambra,  where  she  seated  hersel) 
on  a  bench  of  a  woody  recess  to  recover  breath.  The  bell  from 
the  watch-tower  of  the  Alhambra  told  midnight.  Tkere  was 
a  deep  tranquillity,  as  if  all  nature  slept ;  excepting  the  low 
tinkling  sound  of  an  unseen  stream  that  ran  under  the  covert 
of  the  bushes.  The  breathing  sweetness  of  the  atmosphere 
was  lulling  her  to  sleep,  when  her  eye  was  caught  by  some 
thing  glittering  at  a  distance,  and  to  her  surprise,  she  beheld  a 
long  cavalcade  of  Moorish  warriors  pouring  down  the  moun 
tain  side,  and  along  the  leafy  avenues.  Some  were  armed 
with  lances  and  shields ;  others  with  scimitars  and  battle-axes, 
and  with  polished  cuirasses  that  flashed  in  the  moon-beams. 
Their  horses  pranced  proudly,  and  champed  upon  the  bit,  but 
their  tramp  caused  no  more  sound  than  if  they  had  been  shod 
with  felt,  and  the  riders  were  all  as  pale  as  death.  Among 
them  rode  a  beautiful  lady  with  a  crowned  head  and  long 
golden  locks  entwined  with  pearls.  The  housings  of  her 
palfrey  were  of  crimson  velvet  embroidered  with  gold,  and 
swept  the  earth ;  but  she  rode  all  disconsolate,  with  eyes  ever 
fixed  upon  the  ground. 

Then  succeeded  a  train  of  courtiers  magnificently  arrayed  in 
robes  and  turbans  of  divers  colours,  and  amidst  these,  on  a 
cream-coloured  charger,  rode  king  Boabdil  el  Chico,  in  a  royal 
mantle  covered  with  jewels,  and  a  crown  sparkling  with 
diamonds.  The  little  Sanchica  knew  him  by  his  yellow  beard, 
and  his  resemblance  to  his  portrait,  which  she  had  often  seen 
in  the  picture  gallery  of  the  Generaliffe.  She  gazed  in  wonder 
and  admiration  at  this  royal  pageant  as  it  passed  glistening 
among  the  trees,  but  though  she  knew  these  monarchs,  and 
courtiers,  and  warriors,  so  pale  and  silent,  were  out  of  the 
common  course  of  nature,  and  things  of  magic  or  enchant 
ment,  yet  she  looked  on  with  a  bold  heart,  such  courage  did 
she  derive  from  the  mystic  talisman  of  the  hand  which  was 
suspended  about  her  neck. 

The  cavalcade  having  passed  by,  she  rose  and  followed.  It 
continued  on  to  the  great  gate  of  Justice,  which  stood  wide 
open;  the  old  invalid  sentinels  on  duty,  lay  on  the  stone 
benches  of  the  Barbican,  buried  in  profound  and  apparently 
charmed  sleep,  and  the  phantom  pageant  swept  noiselessly  by 
them  with  flaunting  banner  and  triumphant  state.  Sanchica 
would  have  followed,  but,  to  her  surprise,  she  beheld  an  open 
ing  in  the  earth  within  tho  Barbican,  leading  down 


LEGEND  OF  THE  TWO  DISCREET  STATUES.      193 

the  foundations  of  the  tower.  She  entered  for  a  little  distance, 
and  was  encouraged  to  proceed  by  finding  steps  rudely  hewn 
in  the  rock,  and  a  vaulted  passage  here  and  there  lit  up  by  a 
silver  lamp,  which,  while  it  gave  light,  diffused  likewise  a 
grateful  fragrance.  Venturing  on,  she  came  at  last  to  a  great 
hall  wrought  out  of  the  heart  of  the  mountain,  magnificently 
furnished  in  the  Moorish  style,  and  lighted  up  by  silver  and 
crystal  lamps.  Here  on  an  ottoman  sat  an  old  man  in  Moorish 
dress,  with  a  long  white  beard,  nodding  and  dozing,  with  a 
staff  in  his  hand,  which  seemed  ever  to  be  slipping  from  hia 
grasp ;  while  at  a  little  distance,  sat  a  beautiful  lady  in  ancient 
Spanish  dress,  with  a  coronet  all  sparkling  with  diamonds, 
and  her  hair  entwined  with  pearls,  who  was  softly  playing  on 
a  silver  lyre.  The  little  Sanchica  now  recollected  a  story  sh§ 
had  heard  among  the  old  people  of  the  Alhambra,  concerning 
a  Gothic  princess  confined  in  the  centre  of  the  mountain  by 
an  old  Arabian  magician,  whom  she  kept  bound  up  in  magio 
sleep  by  the  power  of  music. 

The  lady  paused  with  surprise,  at  seeing  a  mortal  in  that 
enchanted  hall.  "Is  it  the  eve  of  the  blessed  St.  John?"  said 
she. 

"It  is,"  replied  Sanchica. 

"  Then  for  one  night  the  magic  charm  is  suspended.  Come 
hither,  child,  and  fear  not,  I  am  a  Christian  like  thyself, 
though  bound  here  by  enchantment.  Touch  my  fetters  with 
the  talisman  that  hangs  about  thy  neck,  and  for  this  night  I 
shall  be  free." 

So  saying,  she  opened  her  robes  and  displayed  a  broad 
golden  band  round  her  waist,  and  a  golden  chain  that  fastened 
her  to  the  ground.  The  child  hesitated  not  to  apply  the  little 
hand  of  jet  to  the  golden  band,  and  immediately  the  chain  fell 
to  the  earth.  At  the  sound  the  old  man  awoke,  and  began  to 
rub  his  eyes,  but  the  lady  ran  her  fingers  over  the  chords  of 
the  lyre,  and  again  he  fell  into  a  slumber  and  began  to  nod,  and 
his  staff  to  falter  in  his  hand.  "Now,"  said  the  lady,  "  touch 
his  staff  with  the  talismanic  hand  of  jet."  The  child  did  so,  and 
it  fell  from  his  grasp,  and  he  sank  in  a  deep  sleep  on  the  otto- 
man.  The  lady  gently  laid  the  silver  lyre  on  the  ottoman  lean 
ing  it  against  the  head  of  the  sleeping  magician,  then  touching 
the  chords  until  they  vibrated  in  his  ear,  "O  potent  spirit 
of  harmony,"  said  she,  "continue  thus  to  hold  his  senses 
in  thraldom  till  the  return  of  day."  "Now  follow  me,  my 
«mld,"  continued  she.  V,and  thou  shalt  behold  the  Alhambra  aa 


194  TIIK  ALHAMBRA. 

it  was  in  the  days  of  its  glory,  for  thou  hast  a  magic  talisman 
that  reveals  all  enchantments."  Sanchica  followed  the  lady  in 
silence.  They  passed  up  through  the  entrance  of  the  cavern 
into  the  Barbican  of  the  gate  of  Justice,  and  thence  to  the 
Plaza  de  las  Algibes,  or  esplanade  within  the  fortress.  This 
was  all  filled  with  Moorish  soldiery,  horse  and  foot,  marshalled 
in  squadrons,  with  banners  displayed.  There  were  royal 
guards  also  at  the  portal,  and  rows  of  African  blacks  with 
drawn  scimitars.  No  one  spoke  a  word,  and  Sanchica  passed 
on  fearlessly  after  her  conductor.  Her  astonishment  increased 
on  entering  the  royal  palace,  in  which  she  had  been  reared. 
The  broad  moonshine  lit  up  all  the  halls,  and  courts,  and 
gardens,  almost  as  brightly  as  if  it  were  day ;  but  revealed  a 
far  different  scene  from  that  to  which  she  was  accustomed. 
The  walls  of  the  apartments  were  no  longer  stained  and  rent  by 
time.  Instead  of  cobwebs,  they  were  now  hung  with  rich  silka 
of  Damascus,  and  the  gildings  and  arabesque  paintings  were 
restored  to  their  original  brilliancy  and  freshness.  The  halls, 
instead  of  being  naked  and  unfurnished,  were  set  out  with 
divans  and  ottomans  of  the  rarest  stuffs,  embroidered  with 
pearls,  and  studded  with  precious  gems,  and  all  the  fountains 
in  the  courts  and  gardens  were  playing. 

The  kitchens  were  again  in  full  operation ;  cooks  were  busied 
preparing  shadowy  dishes,  and  roasting  and  boiling  the  phan 
toms  of  pullets  and  partridges ;  servants  were  hurrying  to  and 
fro  with  silver  dishes  heaped  up  with  dainties,  and  arranging 
a  delicious  banquet.  The  Court  of  Lions  was  thronged  with 
guards,  and  courtiers,  and  alfaquis,  as  in  the  old  times  of  the 
Moors ;  and  at  the  upper  end  in  the  saloon  of  judgment,  sat 
Boabdil  on  his  throne,  surrounded  by  his  court,  and  swaying  a 
shadowy  sceptre  for  the  night. 

Notwithstanding  all  this  throng  and  seeming  bustle,  not  a 
voice  or  footstep  was  to  be  heard ;  nothing  interrupted  the  mid 
night  silence  but  the  plashing  of  the  fountains.  The  little 
Sanchica  followed  her  conductress  in  mute  amazement  about 
the  palace,  until  they  came  to  a  portal  opening  to  the  vaulted 
passages  beneath  the  great  tower  of  Comares.  On  each  side  of 
the  portal  sat  the  figure  of  a  nymph,  wrought  out  of  alabaster. 
Their  heads  were  turned  aside,  and  their  regards  fixed  upon  the 
same  spot  within  the  vault.  The  enchanted  lady  paused,  and 
beckoned  the  child  to  her.  "  Here,"  said  she,  "is  a  great  se 
cret,  which  I  will  reveal  to  thee  in  reward  for  thy  faith  and 
courage.  These  discreet  statues  watch  over  a  mighty  treasure 


LEGEND  OF  THE  TWO  DISCREET  STATUES.       195 

hidden  in  old  times  by  a  Moorish  king.  Tell  thy  father  to 
search  the  spot  on  which  their  eyes  are  fixed,  and  he  will  find 
what  will  make  him  richer  than  any  man  in  Granada.  Thy 
innocent  hands  alone,  however,  gifted  as  thou  art  also  with  the 
talisman,  can  remove  the  treasure.  Bid  thy  father  use  it 
discreetly,  and  devote  a  part  of  it  to  the  performance  of 
daily  masses  for  my  deliverance  from  this  unholy  enchant 
ment." 

When  the  lady  had  spoken  these  words,  she  led  the  child 
onward  to  the  little  garden  of  Lindaraxa,  which  is  hard  by  the 
vault  of  the  statues.  The  moon  trembled  upon  the  waters  of 
the  solitary  fountain  in  the  centre  of  the  garden,  and  shed  a 
tender  light  upon  the  orange  and  citron  trees.  The  beautiful 
lady  plucked  a  branch  of  myrtle  and  wreathed  it  round  the 
head  of  the  child.  "Let  this  be  a  memento,"  said  she,  "of 
what  I  have  revealed  to  thee,  and  a  testimonial  of  its  truth. 
My  hour  is  come. — I  must  return  to  the  enchanted  hall;  follow 
me  not,  lest  evil  befall  thee ;  farewell,  remember  what  I  have 
said,  and  have  masses  performed  for  my  deliverance."  So  say 
ing,  the  lady  entered  a  dark  passage  leading  beneath  the  tow 
ers  of  Comares,  and  was  no  longer  to  be  seen. 

The  faint  crowing  of  a  cock  was  now  heard  from  the  cottages 
below  the  Alhambra,  in  the  valley  of  the  Darro,  and  a  pale 
streak  of  light  began  to  appear  above  the  eastern  mountains. 
A.  slight  wind  arose ;  there  was  a  sound  like  the  rustling  of  dry 
leaves  through  the  courts  and  corridors,  and  door  after  door 
shut  to  with  a  jarring  sound.  Sanchica  returned  to  the  scenes 
ghe  had  so  lately  beheld  thronged  with  the  shadowy  multitude, 
but  Boabdil  and  his  phantom  court  were  gone. 

The  moon  shone  into  empty  halls  and  galleries,  stripped  of 
their  transient  splendour,  stained  and  dilapidated  by  time,  and 
hung  with  cobwebs;  the  bat  flitted  about  in  the  uncertain 
light,  and  the  frog  croaked  from  the  fish-pond. 

Sanchica  now  made  the  best  of  her  way  to  a  remote  staircase 
that  led  up  to  the  humble  apartment  occupied  by  her  family. 
The  door  as  usual  was  open,  for  Lope  Sanchez  was  too  poor  to 
need  bolt  or  bar :  she  crept  quietly  to  her  pallet,  and,  putting 
the  myrtle  wreath  beneath  her  pillow,  soon  fell  asleep. 

In  the  morning  she  related  all  that  had  befallen  her  to  her 
father.  Lope  Sanchez,  however,  treated  the  whole  as  a  mere 
dream,  and  laughed  at  the  child  for  her  credulity.  He  went 
forth  to  his  customary  labours  in  the  garden,  but  had  not  been 
there  long  when  his  little  daughter  came  running  to  him  almost 


196  THE  ALI1AMBRA. 

breathless.     "Father!  father !"  cried  she,  "behold  the  myrtle 
wreath  which  the  Moorish  lady  bound  round  my  head." 

Lope  Sanchez  gazed  with  astonishment,  for  the  stalk  of  the 
myrtle  was  of  pure  gold,  and  every  leaf  was  a  sparkling  emer 
ald  1  Being  not  much  accustomed  to  precious  stones,  he  was 
ignorant  of  the  real  value  of  the  wreath,  but  he  saw  enough  to 
convince  him  that  it  was  something  more  substantial  than  the 
stuff  that  dreams  are  generally  made  of,  and  that  at  any  rate 
the  child  had  dreamt  to  some  purpose.  His  first  care  was  to 
enjoin  the  most  absolute  secrecy  upon  his  daughter ;  in  this 
respect,  however,  he  was  secure,  for  she  had  discretion  far  be 
yond  her  years  or  sex.  He  then  repaired  to  the  vault  where 
stood  the  statues  of  the  two  alabaster  nymphs.  He  remarked 
that  their  heads  were  turned  from  the  portal,  and  that  the  re 
gards  of  each  were  fixed  upon  the  same  point  in  the  interior  of 
the  building.  Lope  Sanchez  could  not  but  admire  this  most 
discreet  contrivance  for  guarding  a  secret.  He  drew  a  line 
from  the  eyes  of  the  statues  to  the  point  of  regard,  made  a  pri 
vate  mark  on  the  wall,  and  then  retired. 

All  day,  however,  the  mind  of  Lope  Sanchez  was  distracted 
with  a  thousand  cares.  He  could  not  help  hovering  within 
distant  view  of  the  two  statues,  and  became  nervous  from  the 
dread  that  the  golden  secret  might  be  discovered.  Every  foot 
step  that  approached  the  place,  made  him  tremble.  He  would 
have  given  any  thing  could  he  but  turn  the  heads  of  the  statues, 
forgetting  that  they  had  looked  precisely  in  the  same  direction 
for  some  hundreds  of  years,  without  any  person  being  the 
wiser.  "A  plague  upon  them,"  he  would  say  to  himself, 
"they'll  betray  all.  Did  ever  mortal  hear  of  such  a  mode 
of  guarding  a  secret !"  Then,  on  hearing  any  one  advance,  he 
would  steal  off,  as  though  his  very  lurking  near  the  place 
would  awaken  suspicions.  Then  he  would  return  cautiously, 
and  peep  from  a  distance  to  see  if  every  thing  was  secure,  but 
the  sight  of  the  statues  would  again  call  forth  his  indigna 
tion.  "Aye,  there  they  stand,"  would  he  say,  "always  look 
ing,  and  looking,  and  looking,  just  where  they  should  not 
Confound  them !  they  are  just  like  all  their  sex ;  if  they  have 
not  tongues  to  tattle  with,  they'll  be  sure  to  do  it  with  their 
eyes !" 

At  length,  to  his  relief,  the  long  anxious  day  drew  to  a  close. 
The  sound  of  footsteps  was  no  longer  heard  in  the  echoing 
halls  of  the  Alhambra;  the  last  stranger  passed  the  threshold, 
the  great  portal  was  barred  apd  bolted,  and  the  bat,  and  the 


LEGEND  OF  THE  TWO  DISCREET  STA2  UES.       107 

frog,  and  the  hooting  owl  gradually  resumed  their  nightly 
vocations  in  the  deserted  palace. 

Lope  Sanchez  waited,  however,  until  the  night  was  far  ad 
vanced,  before  he  ventured  with  his  little  daughter  to  the  hall 
of  the  two  nymphs.  He  found  them  looking  as  knowingly  and 
mysteriously  as  ever,  at  the  secret  place  o£  deposit.  "By  your 
leaves,  gentle  ladies,"  thought  Lope  Sanchez  as  he  passed  be 
tween  them,  "I  will  relieve  you  from  this  charge  that  must 
have  set  so  heavy  in  your  minds  for  the  last  two  or  three  cen 
turies."  He  accordingly  went  to  work  at  the  part  of  the  wall 
which  he  had  marked,  and  in  a  little  while  laid  open  a  con 
cealed  recess,  in  which  stood  two  great  jars  of  porcelain.  He 
attempted  to  draw  them  forth,  but  they  were  immovable  until 
touched  by  the  innocent  hand  of  his  little  daughter.  With  her 
aid  he  dislodged  them  from  their  niche,  and  found  to  his  great 
joy,  that  they  were  filled  with  pieces  of  Moorish  gold,  mingled 
with  jewels  and  precious  stones.  Before  daylight  he  managed 
to  convey  them  to  his  chamber,  and  left  the  two  guardian 
statues  with  their  eyes  still  fixed  on  the  vacant  wall. 

Lope  Sanchez  had  thus  on  a  sudden  become  a  rich  man,  but 
riches,  as  usual,  brought  a  world  of  cares,  to  which  he  had 
hitherto  been  a  stranger.  How  was  he  to  convey  away  his 
wealth  with  safety?  How  was  he  even  to  enter  upon  the  en 
joyment  of  it  without  awakening  suspicion?  Now  too,  for  the 
first  time  in  his  life,  the  dread  of  robbers  entered  into  his  mind. 
He  looked  with  terror  at  the  insecurity  of  his  habitation, 
and  went  to  work  to  barricade  the  doors  and  windows ;  yet 
after  all  his  precautions,  he  could  not  sleep  soundly.  His 
usual  gaiety  was  at  an  end ;  he  had  no  longer  a  joke  or  a  song 
for  his  neighbours,  and,  in  short,  became  the  most  miserable 
animal  in  the  Alhambra.  His  old  comrades  remarked  this 
alteration;  pitied  him  heartily,  and  began  to  desert  himr 
thinking  he  must  be  falling  into  want,  and  in  danger  of  look- 
Ing  to  them  for  assistance ;  little  did  they  suspect  that  his  only 
calamity  was  riches. 

The  wife  of  Lope  Sanchez  shared  his  anxiety;  but  then  she 
had  ghostly  comfort.  We  ought  before  this  to  have  men 
tioned,  that  Lope  being  rather  a  light,  inconsiderate  little  man, 
his  wife  was  accustomed,  in  all  grave  matters,  to  seek  the 
counsel  and  ministry  of  her  confessor,  Fray  Simon,  a  sturdy, 
broad-shouldered,  blue-bearded,  bullet-headed  friar  of  the 
neighbouring  convent  of  San  Francisco,  who  was,  in  fact,  the 
Spiritual  comforter  of  half  the  erood  wives  of  the  neighbour- 


198  THE  ALUAMBRA. 

hood.  He  was,  moreover,  in  great  esteem  among  divers 
sisterhoods  of  nuns,  who  requited  him  for  his  ghostly  services 
by  frequent  presents  of  those  little  dainties  and  nicknacks 
manufactured  in  convents,  such  as  delicate  confections,  sweet 
biscuits,  and  bottles  of  spiced  cordials,  found  to  be  marvellous 
restoratives  after  fasts  and  vigils. 

Fray  Simon  thrived  in  the  exercise  of  his  functions.  Hie 
oily  skin  glistened  in  the  sunshine  as  he  toiled  up  the  hill  of  the 
Alhambra  on  a  sultry  day.  Yet  notwithstanding  his  sleek 
condition,  the  knotted  rope  round  his  waist  showed  the  au 
sterity  of  his  self -discipline ;  the  multitude  doffed  their  caps  to 
him  as  a  mirror  of  piety,  and  even  the  dogs  scented  the  odour 
of  sanctity  that  exhaled  from  his  garments,  and  howled  from 
their  kennels  as  he  passed. 

Such  was  Fray  Simon,  the  spiritual  counsellor  of  the  comely 
wife  of  Lope  Sanchez,  and  as  the  father  confessor  is  the 
domestic  confidant  of  women  in  humble  life  in  Spain,  he  was 
soon  made  acquainted,  in  great  secrecy,  with  the  story  of  the 
hidden  treasure. 

The  friar  opened  eyes  and  mouth,  and  crossed  himself  a 
dozen  times  at  the  news.  After  a  moment's  pause,  "  Daughter 
of  my  soul !"  said  he,  "  know  that  thy  husband  has  committed 
a  double  sin,  a  sin  against  both  state  and  church !  The  trea 
sure  he  has  thus  seized  upon  for  himself,  being  found  in  the 
royal  domains,  belongs  of  course  to  the  crown ;  but  being  in 
fidel  wealth,  rescued,  as  it  were,  from  the  very  fangs  of  Satan, 
should  be  devoted  to  the  church.  Still,  however,  the  matter 
may  be  accommodated.  Bring  hither  the  myrtle  wreath." 

When  the  good  father  beheld  it,  his  eyes  twinkled  more  than 
over,  with  admiration  of  the  size  and  beauty  of  the  emeralds. 
"This,"  said  he,  "being  the  first  fruits  of  this  discovery, 
^hould  be  dedicated  to  pious  purposes.  I  will  hang  it  up  as 
{a  votive  offering  before  the  image  of  San  Francisco  in  our 
chapel,  and  will  earnestly  pray  to  him,  this  very  night,  that 
your  husband  be  permitted  to  remain  in  quiet  possession  of 
your  wealth." 

The  good  dame  was  delighted  to  make  her  peace  with 
heaven  at  so  cheap  a  rate,  and  the  friar,  putting  the  wreath 
under  his  mantle,  departed  with  saintly  steps  towards  his  con 
vent. 

When  Lope  Sanchez  came  home,  his  wife  told  him  what  had 
passed.  He  was  excessively  provoked,  for  he  lacked  his  wife'* 
devotion,  and  had  for  «ome  tune  groaned  in  secret  at  tho 


LEGEND  OF  THE  TWO  DISCREET  STATUES.       199 

domestic  visitations  of  the  friar.  "  "Woman, "  said  he,  "what 
hast  thou  done !  Thou  hast  put  every  thing  at  hazard  by  thy 
tattling." 

"What!"  cried  the  good  woman,  "would  you  forbid  my 
disburthening  my  conscience  to  my  confessor?" 

"  No,  wife!  confess  as  many  of  your  own  sins  as  you  please; 
but  as  to  this  money -digging,  it  is  a  sin  of  my  own,  and  my 
conscience  is  very  easy  under  the  weight  of  it." 
'  There  was  no  use,  however,  in  complaining ;  the  secret  was 
told,  and,  like  water  spilled  on  the  sand,  was  not  again  to  be 
gathered.  Their  only  chance  was,  that  the  friar  would  be  dis 
creet. 

The  next  day,  while  Lope  Sanchez  was  abroad,  there  was  an 
humble  knocking  at  the  door,  and  Fray  Simon  entered  with 
meek  and  demure  countenance. 

"Daughter,"  said  he,  "I  have  prayed  earnestly  to  San 
Francisco,  and  he  has  heard  my  prayer.  In  the  dead  of  the 
night  the  saint  appeared  to  me  in  a  dream,  but  with  a  frowning 
aspect.  "Why,  "said  he,  "dost  thou  pray  to  me  to  dispense 
with  this  treasure  of  the  Gentiles,  when  thou  seest  the  pov 
erty  of  my  chapel?  Go  to  the  house  of  Lope  Sanchez,  crave 
in  my  name  a  portion  of  the  Moorish  gold  to  furnish  two 
candlesticks  for  the  main  altar,  and  let  him  possess  the  residue 
in  peace. ' " 

When  the  good  woman  heard  of  this  vision,  she  crossed  her 
self  with  awe,  and  going  to  the  secret  place  where  Lope  had 
hid  the  treasure,  she  filled  a  great  leathern  purse  with  pieces 
of  Moorish  gold,  and  gave  it  to  the  friar.  The  pious  monk  be 
stowed  upon  her  in  return,  benedictions  enough,  if  paid  by 
heaven,  to  enrich  her  race  to  the  latest  posterity ;  then  slip 
ping  the  purse  into  the  sleeve  of  his  habit,  he  folded  his  hands 
upon  his  breast,  and  departed  with  an  air  of  humble  thankful 
ness. 

When  Lope  Sanchez  heard  of  this  second  donation  to  the 
church,  he  had  well  nigh  lost  his  senses.  "  Unfortunate  man," 
cried  he,  "what  will  become  of  me?  I  shall  be  robbed  by 
piecemeal ;  I  shall  be  ruined  and  brought  to  beggary !" 

It  was  with  the  utmost  difficulty  that  his  wife  could  pacify 
him  by  reminding  him  of  the  countless  wealth  that  yet  re 
mained  ;  and  how  considerate  it  was  for  San  Francisco  to  rest 
contented  with  so  very  small  a  portion. 

Unluckily,  Fray  Simon  had  a  number  of  poor  relations  to  be 
provided  for,  not  to  mention  _gome  half  dozen  sturdy,  bullet- 


200  THE  ALHAMBRA. 

headed  orphan  children  and  destitute  foundlings,  that  he  had 
taken  under  his  care.  He  repeated  his  visits,  therefore,  from 
day  to  day,  with  salutations  on  behalf  of  Saint  Dominick,  Saint 
Andrew,  Saint  James,  until  poor  Lope  was  driven  to  despair, 
and  found  that,  unless  he  got  out  of  the  reach  of  this  holy  friar, 
he  should  have  to  make  peace  offerings  to  every  saint  in  the 
kalendar.  He  determined,  therefore,  to  pack  up  his  remaining 
wealth,  beat  a  secret  retreat  in  the  night,  and  make  off  to 
another  part  of  the  kingdom. 

Full  of  his  project,  he  bought  a  stout  mule  for  the  purpose, 
and  tethered  it  in  a  gloomy  vault,  underneath  the  tower  of  the 
Seven  Floors.  The  very  place  from  whence  the  Bellado,  or 
goblin  horse  without  a  head,  is  said  to  issue  forth  at  midnight 
and  to  scour  the  streets  of  Granada,  pursued  by  a  pack  of  hell 
hounds.  Lope  Sanchez  had  little  faith  in  the  story,  but  availed 
himself  of  the  dread  occasioned  by  it,  knowing  that  no  one 
would  be  likely  to  pry  into  the  subterranean  stable  of  the  phan 
tom  steed.  He  sent  off  his  family  in  the  course  of  the  day,  with 
orders  to  wait  for  him  at  a  distant  village  of  the  Vega.  As  the 
night  advanced,  he  conveyed  his  treasure  to  the  vault  under 
the  tower,  and  having  loaded  his  mule,  he  led  it  forth,  and 
cautiously  descended  the  dusky  avenue. 

Honest  Lope  had  taken  his  measures  with  the  utmost  secrecy, 
imparting  them  to  no  one  but  the  faithful  wife  of  his  bosom. 
By  some  miraculous  revelation,  however,  they  became  known 
to  Fray  Simon ;  the  zealous  Mar  beheld  these  infidel  treasures 
on  the  point  of  slipping  for  ever  out  of  his  grasp,  and  deter 
mined  to  have  one  more  dash  at  them  for  the  benefit  of  the 
church  and  San  Francisco.  Accordingly,  when  the  bells  had 
rung  for  animas,  and  all  the  Alhambra  was  quiet,  he  stole  out 
of  his  convent,  and,  descending  through  the  gate  of  Justice, 
concealed  himself  among  the  thickets  of  roses  and  laurels  that 
border  the  great  avenue.  Here  he  remained,  counting  the 
quarters  of  hours  as  they  were  sounded  on  the  bell  of  the 
watch-tower,  and  listening  to  the  dreary  hootings  of  owls,  and 
the  distant  barking  of  dogs  from  the  gipsy  caverns. 

At  length,  he  heard  the  tramp  of  hoofs,  and,  through  the 
gloom  of  the  overshadowing  trees,  imperfectly  beheld  a  steed 
descending  the  avenue.  The  sturdy  friar  chuckled  at  the  idea 
of  the  knowing  turn  he  was  about  to  serve  honest  Lope.  Tuck 
ing  up  the  skirts  of  his  habit,  and  wriggling  like  a  cat  watching 
a  mouse,  he  waited  until  his  prey  was  directly  before  him, 
When  darting  forth  from  his  leafy  eovert,  and  putting  one  hand 


LEGEND  OF  THE  TWO  DISCREET  STATUES.       2Q1 

on  tne  shoulder,  and  the  other  on  the  crupper,  he  made  a  vault 
that  would  not  have  disgraced  the  most  experienced  master  of 
equitation,  and  alighted  well  forked  astride  the  steed.  ' '  Aha !' 
said  the  sturdy  friar,  ' '  we  shall  now  see  who  best  understands 
the  game." 

He  had  scarce  uttered  the  words,  when  the  mule  began  to 
kick  and  rear  and  plunge,  and  then  set  off  at  full  speed  down 
the  hill.  The  friar  attempted  to  check  him,  but  in  vain.  He 
bounded  from  rock  to  rock,  and  bush  to  bush ;  the  friar's  habit 
was  torn  to  ribands,  and  fluttered  in  the  wind ;  his  shaven  poll 
received  many  a  hard  knock  from  the  branches  of  the  trees, 
and  many  a  scratch  from  the  brambles.  To  add  to  his  terror 
and  distress,  he  found  a  pack  of  seven  hounds  in  full  cry  at  his 
heels,  and  perceived,  too  late,  that  he  was  actually  mounted 
upon  the  terrible  Bellado ! 

Away  they  went,  according  to  the  ancient  phrase,  "pull 
devil,  pull  friar,"  down  the  great  avenue,  across  the  Plaza 
Nueva,  along  the  Zacatin,  around  the  Vivarambla, — never  did 
huntsman  and  hound  make  a  more  furious  run,  or  more  infer 
nal  uproar. 

In  vain  did  the  friar  invoke  every  saint  in  the  kalendar,  and 
the  holy  virgin  into  the  bargain ;  every  time  he  mentioned  a 
name  of  the  kind,  it  was  like  a  fresh  application  of  the  spur, 
and  made  the  Bellado  bound  as  high  as  a  house.  Through  the 
remainder  of  the  night  was  the  unlucky  Fray  Simon  carried 
hither  and  thither  and  whither  he  would  not,  until  every  bone 
in  his  body  ached,  and  he  suffered  a  loss  of  leather  too  grievous 
to  be  mentioned.  At  length,  the  crowing  of  a  cock  gave  the 
signal  of  returning  day.  At  the  sound,  the  goblin  steed  wheeled 
about,  and  galloped  back  for  his  tower.  Again  he  scoured  the 
Vivarambla,  the  Zacatin,  the  Plaza  Nueva,  and  the  avenue  of 
fountains,  the  seven  dogs  yelling  and  barking,  and  leaping  up, 
and  snapping  at  the  heels  of  the  terrified  friar.  The  first  streak 
of  day  had  just  appeared  as  they  reached  the  tower ;  here  the 
goblin  steed  kicked  up  his  heels,  sent  the  friar  a  somerset 
through  the  air,  plunged  into  the  dark  vault  followed  by  the 
Infernal  pack,  and  a  profound  silence  succeeded  to  the  late 
deafening  clamour. 

Was  ever  so  diabolical  a  trick  played  off  upon  holy  friar? 
A  peasant  going  to  his  labours  at  early  dawn,  found  the  unfor 
tunate  Fray  Simon  lying  under  a  fig-tree  at  the  foot  of  the 
tower,  but  so  bruised  and  bedeviled,  that  he  could  neither 
ipeak  nor  move.  He  was  conveyed  with  all  care  and  tender 


202  THE  ALHAMBRA. 

ness  to  his  cell,  and  the  story  went  that  he  had  been  waylaid 
and  maltreated  by  robbers.  A  day  or  two  elapsed  before  he 
recovered  the  use  of  his  limbs :  he  consoled  himself  in  the  mean 
time,  with  the  thoughts  that  though  the  mule  with  the  treasure 
had  escaped  him,  he  had  previously  had  some  rare  pickings  at 
the  infidel  spoils.  His  first  care  on  being  able  to  use  his  limbs, 
was  to  search  beneath  his  pallet,  where  he  had  secreted  the 
myrtle  wreath  and  the  leathern  pouches  of  gold,  extracted  from 
the  piety  of  dame  Sanchez.  What  was  his  dismay  at  finding 
the  wreath,  in  effect,  but  a  withered  branch  of  myrtle,  and  tb.3 
leathern  pouches  filled  with  sand  and  gravel ! 

Fray  Simon,  with  all  his  chagrin,  had  the  discretion  to  hold 
his  tongue,  for  to  betray  the  secret  might  draw  on  him  the 
ridicule  of  the  public,  and  the  punishment  of  his  superior ;  it 
was  not  until  many  years  afterwards,  on  his  death-bed,  that  he 
revealed  to  his  confessor  his  nocturnal  ride  on  the  Bellado. 

Nothing  was  heard  of  Lope  Sanchez  for  a  long  time  after  his 
disappearance  from  the  Alhambra.  His  memory  was  always 
cherished  as  that  of  a  merry  companion,  though  it  was  feared, 
from  the  care  and  melancholy  showed  in  his  conduct  shortly 
before  his  mysterious  departure,  that  poverty  and  distress  had 
driven  him  to  some  extremity.  Some  years  afterwards,  one  of 
his  old  companions,  an  invalid  soldier,  being  at  Malaga,  was 
knocked  down  and  nearly  run  over  by  a  coach  and  six.  The 
carriage  stopped;  an  old  gentleman,  magnificently  dressed, 
with  a  bag- wig  and  sword,  stepped  out  to  assist  the  poor  in 
valid.  What  was  the  astonishment  of  the  latter  to  behold  in 
this  grand  cavalier,  his  old  friend  Lope  Sanchez,  who  was  actu 
ally  celebrating  the  marriage  of  his  daughter  Sanchica,  with 
one  of  the  first  grandees  in  the  land. 

The  carriage  contained  the  bridal  party.  There  was  dame 
Sanchez  now  grown  as  round  as  a  barrel,  and  dressed  out  with 
feathers  and  jewels,  and  necklaces  of  pearls,  and  necklaces  of 
diamonds,  and  rings  on  every  finger,  and  altogether  a  finery  of 
apparel  that  had  not  been  seen  since  the  days  of  Queen  Sheba. 
The  little  Sanchica  had  now  grown  to  be  a  woman,  and  for 
grace  and  beauty  might  have  been  mistaken  for  a  duchess,  if 
not  a  princess  outright.  The  bridegroom  sat  beside  her,  rather 
a  withered,  spindle-shanked  little  man,  but  this  only  proved 
him  to  be  of  the  true  blue  blood,  a  legitimate  Spanish  grandee 
being  rarely  above  three  cubits  in  stature.  The  match  had  been 
of  the  mother's  making. 

Riches  had  not  spoiled  the  heart  of  honest  Lope,    He  kept 


MAHAMAD  ABEX  ALAHNAR.  203 

bis  old  comrade  with  him  for  several  days ;  feasted  him  like 
a  king,  took  Mm  to  plays  and  bull-fights,  and  at  length  sent 
him  away  rejoicing,  with  a  big  bag  of  money  for  himself,  and 
another  to  be  distributed  among  his  ancient  messmates  of  the 
Alhambra. 

Lope  always  gave  out  that  a  rich  brother  had  died  in 
America,  and  left  him  heir  to  a  copper  mine,  but  the  shrewd 
gossips  of  the  Alhambra  insist  that  his  wealth  was  all  derived 
from  his  having  discovered  the  secret  guarded  by  the  two 
marble  nymphs  of  the  Alhambra.  It  is  remarked,  that  these 
very  discreet  statues  continue  even  unto  the  present  day  with 
their  eyes  fixed  most  significantly  on  the  same  part  of  the 
wall,  which  leads  many  to  suppose  there  is  still  some  hidden 
treasure  remaining  there,  well  worthy  the  attention  of  the 
enterprising  traveller.  Though  others,  and  particularly  all 
female  visitors,  regard  them  with  great  complacency,  as  last 
ing  monuments  of  the  fact,  that  women  can  keep  a  secret. 


MA  HAM  AD    ABEN    ALAHMAR: 

THE  FOUNDER  OF  THE  ALHAMBRA. 

HAVING  dealt  so  freely  in  the  marvellous  legends  of  the 
Alhambra,  I  feel  as  if  bound  to  give  the  reader  a  few  facts 
concerning  its  sober  history,  or  rather  the  history  of  those 
magnificent  princes,  its  founder  and  finisher,  to  whom  Eu 
rope  is  indebted  for  so  beautiful  and  romantic  an  oriental 
monument.  To  attain  these  facts,  I  descended  from  this  re 
gion  of  fancy  and  fiction,  where  everything  is  liable  to  take  an 
imaginative  tint,  and  carried  my  researches  among  the  dusty 
tomes  of  the  old  Jesuit's  library  in  the  university.  Thifl  once 
boasted  repository  of  erudition  is  now  a  mere  shadow  of  its 
former  self,  having  been  stripped  of  its  manuscripts  and  rarest 
works  by  the  French,  while  masters  of  Granada.  Still  it  con 
tains,  among  many  ponderous  tomes  of  polemics  of  the  Jesuit 
fathers,  several  curious  tracts  of  Spanish  literature,  and  above 
all,  a  number  of  those  antiquated,  dusty,  parchment-bound 
chronicles,  for  which  I  have  a  peculiar  veneration. 

In  this  old  library  I  have  passed  many  delightful  hours  of 
quiet,  undisturbed,  literary  foraging,  for  the  keys  of  the  doors 


204  THE  ALHAMBRA. 

and  bookcases  were  kindly  entrusted  to  me,  and  I  was  left 
alone  to  rummage  at  my  leisure— a  rare  indulgence  in  thosn 
sanctuaries  of  learning,  which  too  often  tantalize  the  thirsty 
student  with  the  sight  of  sealed  fountains  of  knowledge. 

In  the  course  of  these  visits  I  gleaned  the  following  particu 
lars  concerning  the  historical  characters  in  question. 

The  Moors  of  Granada  regarded  the  Alhambra  as  a  miracle 
of  art,  and  had  a  tradition  that  the  king  who  founded  it  dealt 
in  magic,  or  at  least  was  deeply  versed  in  alchymy,  by  means 
of  which,  he  procured  the  immense  sums  of  gold  expended  in 
its  election.  A  brief  view  oi'  his  reign  will  show  the  real  secret 
of  his  wealth. 

The  name  of  this  monarch,  as  inscribed  on  the  walls  of  some 
of  the  apartments,  was  Aben  Abd'allah  (i.e.  the  father  of 
Abdallah),  but  he  is  commonly  known  in  Moorish  history  as 
Mahamad  Aben  Alahmar  (or  Mahamad  son  of  Alahmar),  or 
simply  Aben  Alahmar,  for  the  sake  of  brevity. 

He  was  born  in  Arjona,  in  the  year  of  the  Hegira,  591,  of  the 
Christian  era,  1195,  of  the  noble  family  of  the  Beni  Nasar,  or 
children  of  Nasar,  and  no  expense  was  spared  by  his  parents 
to  fit  him  for  the  high  station  to  which  the  opulence  and 
dignity  of  his  family  entitled  him.  The  Saracens  of  Spain 
were  greatly  advanced  in  civilization.  Every  principal  city 
was  a  seat  of  learning  and  the  arts,  so  that  it  was  easy  to  com 
mand  the  most  enlightened  instructors  for  a  youth  of  rank 
and  fortune.  Aben  Alahmar,  when  he  arrived  at  manly  years, 
was  appointed  Alcayde  or  governor  of  Arjona  and  Jaen,  and 
gained  great  popularity  by  his  benignity  and  justice.  Some 
years  afterwards,  011  the  death  of  Aben  Hud,  the  Moorish 
power  of  Spain  was  broken  into  factions,  and  many  places 
declared  for  Mahamad  Aben  Alahmar.  Being  of  a  sanguine 
spirit  and  lofty  ambition,  he  seized  upon  the  occasion,  made  a 
circuit  through  the  country,  and  was  every  where  received 
with  acclamation.  It  was  in  the  year  1238  that  he  entered 
Granada  amidst  the  enthusiastic  shouts  of  the  multitude.  He 
was  proclaimed  king  with  every  demonstration  of  joy,  and 
goon  became  the  head  of  the  Moslems  in  Spain,  being  the  first 
of  the  illustrious  line  of  Beni  Nasar  that  had  sat  upon  the 
throne. 

His  reign  was  such  as  to  render  him  a  blessing  to  his  sub 
jects.  He  gave  the  command  of  his  various  cities  to  such  as 
had  distinguished  themselves  by  valour  and  prudence,  and 
who  seemed  most  acceptable  to  tfre  people.  He  organized  a 


MAHAMAD  ABEN  ALAHMAR.  203 

vigilant  police,  and  established  rigid  rules  for  the  administra 
tion  of  justice.  The  poor  and  the  distressed  always  found 
ready  admission  to  his  presence,  and  he  attended  personally 
to  their  assistance  and  redress.  He  erected  hospitals  for  th« 
blind,  the  aged,  and  infirm,  and  all  those  incapable  of  labour, 
and  visited  them  frequently,  not  on  set  days,  with  pomp  and 
form,  so  as  to  give  time  for  every  thing  to  be  put  in  order  and 
every  abuse  concealed,  but  suddenly  and  unexpectedly,  in 
forming  himself  by  actual  observation  and  close  inquiry  of  the 
treatment  of  the  sick,  and  the  conduct  of  those  appointed  to 
administer  to  their  relief . 

He  founded  schools  and  colleges,  which  he  visited  in  the 
same  manner,  inspecting  personally  the  instruction  of  the 
youth.  He  established  butcheries  and  public  ovens,  that  the 
people  might  be  furnished  with  wholesome  provisions  at  just 
and  regular  prices.  He  introduced  abundant  streams  of  water 
into  the  city,  erecting  baths  and  fountains,  and  constructing 
aqueducts  and  canals  to  irrigate  and  fertilize  the  Vega.  By 
these  means,  prosperity  and  abundance  prevailed  in  this  beau 
tiful  city,  its  gates  were  thronged  with  commerce,  and  its 
warehouses  filled  with  the  luxuries  and  merchandize  of  every 
clime  and  country. 

While  Mahamad  Aben  Alahmar  was  ruling  his  fair  domains 
thus  wisely  and  prosperously,  he  was  suddenly  menaced  by 
the  horrors  of  war.  The  Christians  at  that  time,  profiting 
by  the  dismemberment  of  the  Moslem  power,  were  rapidly 
regaining  their  ancient  territories.  James  the  Conqueror  had 
subjected  all  Valentia,  and  Ferdinand  the  Saint  was  carrying 
his  victorious  armies  into  Andalusia.  The  latter  invested  the 
city  of  Jaen,  and  swore  not  to  raise  his  camp  until  he  had 
gained  possession  of  the  place.  Mahamad  Aben  Alahmar  was 
conscious  of  the  insufficiency  of  his  means  to  carry  on  a  war 
with  the  potent  sovereign  of  Castile.  Taking  a  sudden  resolu 
tion,  therefore,  he  repaired  privately  to  the  Christian  camp, 
and  made  his  unexpected  appearance  in  the  presence  of  king 
Ferdinand.  "In  me,"  said  he,  "you  behold  Mahamad,  king 
of  Granada.  I  confide  in  your  good  faith,  and  put  myself 
under  your  protection.  Take  all  I  possess,  and  receive  me  as 
your  vassal."  So  saying,  he  knelt  and  kissed  the  king's  hand 
in  token  of  submission. 

King  Ferdinand  was  touched  by  this  instance  of  confiding 
faith,  and  determined  not  to  be  outdone  in  generosity.  He 
raised  his  late  rival  from  the  earth  and  embraced  him  as  a 


206  THE  ALHAMBRA. 

friend,  nor  would  he  accept  the  wealth  he  offered,  but  received 
him  as  a  vassal,  leaving  him  sovereign  of  his  dominions,  on 
condition  of  paying  a  yearly  tribute,  attending  the  cortes  as 
one  of  the  nobles  of  the  empire,  and  serving  him  in  war  with 
a  certain  number  of  horsemen. 

It  was  not  long  after  this  that  Mahamad  was  called  upon  for 
his  military  services,  to  aid  king  Ferdinand  in  his  famous  siege 
of  Seville.  The  Moorish  king  sallied  forth  with  five  hundred 
chosen  horsemen  of  Granada,  than  whom  none  in  the  world 
knew  better  how  to  manage  the  steed  or  wield  the  lance.  It 
was  a  melancholy  and  humiliating  service,  however,  for  they 
had  to  draw  the  sword  against  their  brethren  of  the  faith. 
Mahamad  gained  a  melancholy  distinction  by  his  prowess  in  this 
renowned  conquest,  but  more  true  honour  by  the  humanity 
which  he  prevailed  upon  Ferdinand  to  introduce  into  the  usages 
of  war.  When  in  1248,  the  famous  city  of  Seville  surrendered  to 
the  Castilian  monarch,  Mahamad  returned  sad  and  full  of  care 
to  his  dominions.  He  saw  the  gathering  ills  that  menaced  the 
Moslem  cause,  and  uttered  an  ejaculation  often  used  by  him 
in  moments  of  anxiety  and  trouble:  "How  straitened  and 
wretched  would  be  our  life,  if  our  hope  were  not  so  spacious 
and  extensive."* 

When  the  melancholy  conqueror  approached  his  beloved 
Granada,  the  people  thronged  forth  to  see  him  with  impatient 
joy,  for  they  loved  him  as  a  benefactor.  They  had  erected 
arches  of  triumph  in  honour  of  his  martial  exploits,  and  wher 
ever  he  passed  he  was  hailed  with  acclamations,  as  El  Galib, 
or  the  conqueror ;  Mahamad  shook  his  head  when  he  heard  the 
appellation,  "Wa  le  Galib  iU  Aid,"  exclaimed  he:  (there  is  no 
conqueror  but  God !)  From  that  time  forward,  he  adopted  this 
exclamation  as  a  motto.  He  inscribed  it  on  an  oblique  band 
across  his  escutcheon,  and  it  continued  to  be  the  motto  of  his 
descendants. 

Mahamad  had  purchased  peace  by  submission  to  the  Chris 
tian  yoke,  but  he  knew  that  where  the  elements  were  so  dis 
cordant,  and  the  motives  for  hostility  so  deep  and  ancient,  it 
could  not  be  secure  or  permanent.  Acting  therefore  upon  an 
old  maxim,  ' '  arm  thyself  in  peace,  and  clothe  thyself  in  sum 
mer,"  he  unproved  the  present  interval  of  tranquillity  by  for 
tifying  his  dominions  and  replenishing  his  arsenals,  and  by 


*  "  Que  angoste  y  miserabile  seria  mestra  via*,  sino  fuera  tan  dilatada  j  eepacia 
•ueetra  eeperanzal" 


HAH  AM  AD  ABBN  ALAHMAR.  207 

promoting  those  useful  arts  which  give  wealth  and  real  power 
to  an  empire.  He  gave  premiums  and  privileges  to  the  best 
artisans;  improved  the  breed  of  horses  and  other  domestic 
animals;  encouraged  husbandry;  and  increased  the  natural 
fertility  of  the  soil  twofold  by  his  protection,  making  the  lonely 
valleys  of  his  kingdom  to  bloom  like  gardens.  He  fostered  also 
the  growth  and  fabrication  of  silk,  until  the  looms  of  Granada 
surpassed  even  those  of  Syria  in  the  fineness  and  beauty  ofl 
their  productions.  He,  moreover,  caused  the  mines  of  gold 
and  silver,  and  other  metals  found  in  the  mountainous  regions 
of  his  dominions,  to  be  diligently  worked,  and  was  the  first 
king  of  Granada  who  struck  money  of  gold  and  silver  with  his 
name,  taking  great  care  that  the  coins  should  be  skillfully  exe 
cuted. 

It  was  about  this  time,  towards  the  middle  of  the  thirteenth 
century,  and  just  after  his  return  from  the  siege  of  Seville, 
that  he  commenced  the  splendid  palace  of  the  Alhanibra: 
superintending  the  building  of  it  in  person,  mingling  frequently 
among  the  artists  and  workmen,  and  directing  their  labours. 

Though  thus  magnificent  in  his  works,  and  great  in  his  enter 
prises,  he  was  simple  in  his  person,  and  moderate  in  his  enjoy 
ments.  His  dress  was  not  merely  void  of  splendour,  but  so 
plain  as  not  to  distinguish  him  from  his  subjects.  His  harem 
boasted  but  few  beauties,  and  these  he  visited  but  seldom, 
though  they  were  entertained  with  great  magnificence.  His 
wives  were  daughters  of  the  principal  nobles,  and  were  treated 
by  him  as  friends  and  rational  companions ;  what  is  more,  he 
managed  to  make  them  li ve  as  friends  with  one  another. 

He  passed  much  of  his  time  in  his  gardens ;  especially  in 
those  of  the  Alhambra,  which  he  had  stored  with  the  rarest 
plants,  and  the  most  beautiful  and  aromatic  flowers.  Here  he 
delighted  himself  in  reading  histories,  or  in  causing  them  to  be 
i-ead  and  related  to  him ;  and  sometimes,  in  intervals  of  leisure, 
employed  himself  in  the  instruction  of  his  three  sons,  for  whom 
he  had  provided  the  most  learned  and  virtuous  masters. 

As  he  had  frankly  and  voluntarily  offered  himself  a  tributary 
vassal  to  Ferdinand,  so  he  always  remained  loyal  to  his  word, 
giving  him  repeated  proofs  of  fidelity  and  attachment.  When 
that  renowned  monarch  died  in  Seville,  in  1254,  Mahamad  Aben 
Alahmar  sent  ambassadors  to  condole  with  his  successor, 
Alonzo  X. ,  and  with  them  a  gallant  train  of  a  hundred  Moorish 
cavali3rs  of  distinguished  rank,  who  were  to  attend,  each  bear 
ing  a  lighted  taper  round  the  voyal  bier,  during  the  funeral 


208  THE  AL11AMBRA. 

ceremonies.  This  grand  testimonial  of  respect  was  repeated 
by  the  Moslem  monarch  during  the  remainder  of  his  life,  on 
each  anniversary  of  the  death  of  King  Fernando  el  Santo,  when 
the  hundred  Moorish  knights  repaired  from  Granada  to  Seville, 
and  took  their  stations  with  lighted  tapers  in  the  centre  of  the 
sumptuous  cathedral  round  the  cenotaph  of  the  illustrious  de 
ceased. 

Mahamad  Aben  Alahmar  retained  his  faculties  and  vigour 
to  an  advanced  age.  In  his  seventy-ninth  year  he  took  the 
field  on  horseback,  accompanied  by  the  flower  of  his  chivalry, 
to  resist  an  invasion  of  his  territories.  As  the  army  sallied 
forth  from  Granada,  one  of  the  principal  adalides  or  guides, 
who  rode  in  the  advance,  accidentally  broke  his  lance  against 
the  arch  of  the  gate.  The  counsellors  of  the  king,  alarmed  by 
this  circumstance,  which  was  considered  an  evil  omen,  en 
treated  him  to  return.  Their  supplications  were  in  vain.  The 
king  persisted,  and  at  noon-tide  the  omen,  say  the  Moorish 
chroniclers,  was  fatally  fulfilled.  Mahamad  was  suddenly 
struck  with  illness,  and  had  nearly  fallen  from  his  horse.  He 
was  placed  on  a  litter,  and  borne  back  towards  Granada,  but 
his  illness  increased  to  such  a  degree,  that  they  were  obliged  to 
pitch  his  tent  in  the  Vega.  His  physicians  were  filled  with 
consternation,  not  knowing  what  remedy  to  prescribe.  In  a 
few  hours  he  died  vomiting  blood,  and  in  violent  convulsions. 
The  Castilian  prince,  Don  Philip,  brother  of  Alonzo  X.,  was  by 
his  side  when  he  expired.  His  body  was  embalmed,  enclosed 
in  a  silver  coffin,  and  buried  in  the  Alhambra,  in  a  sepulchre 
of  precious  marble,  amidst  the  unfeigned  lamentations  of  his 
subjects,  who  bewailed  him  as  a  parent. 

Such  was  the  enlightened  patriot  prince,  who  founded  the 
Alhambra,  whose  name  remains  emblazoned  among  its  most 
delicate  and  graceful  ornaments,  and  whose  memory  is  calcu 
lated  to  inspire  the  loftiest  associations  in  those  who  tread  these 
fading  scenes  of  his  magnificence  and  glory.  Though  his  un 
dertakings  were  vast,  and  his  expenditures  immense,  yet  his 
treasury  was  always  full ;  and  this  seeming  contradiction  gave 
rise  to  the  story  that  he  was  versed  in  magic  art  and  possessed 
of  the  secret  for  transmuting  baser  metals  into  gold. 

Those  who  have  attended  to  his  domestic  policy,  as  here  set 
forth,  will  easily  understand  the  natural  magic  and  simpte 
alchymy  which  made  his  ample  treasury  to  overflow. 


JUSEF  ABUL  EAQ1AS.  g09 


JUSEF  ABUL  HAGIAS: 

THE  FINISHER  OF  THE  ALHAMBRA. 

BENEATH  the  governor's  apartment  in  the  Alhambra  is  tiiw 
royal  Mosque,  where  the  Moorish  monarchs  performed  their 
private  devotions.  Though  consecrated  as  a  Catholic  chapel, 
it  still  bears  traces  of  its  Moslem  origin ;  the  Saracenic  columns 
with  their  gilded  capitals,  and  the  latticed  gallery  for  the 
females  of  the  harem,  may  yet  be  seen,  and  the  escutcheons  of 
the  Moorish  kings  are  mingled  on  the  walls  with  those  of  the 
Castilian  sovereigns. 

In  this  consecrated  place  perished  the  illustrious  Jusef  Abu] 
Hagias,  the  high-minded  prince  who  completed  the  Alhambra, 
and  who,  for  his  virtues  and  endowments,  deserves  almost 
equal  renown  with  its  magnanimous  founder.  It  is  with  pleas 
ure  I  draw  forth  from  the  obscurity  in  which  it  has  too  long 
remained,  the  name  of  another  of  those  princes  of  a  departed 
and  almost  forgotten  race,  who  reigned  hi  elegance  and  splen 
dour  in  Andalusia,  when  all  Europe  was  in  comparative  bar 
barism. 

Jusef  Abul  Hagias  (or,  as  it  is  sometimes  written,  Haxis) 
ascended  the  throne  of  Granada  in  the  year  1333,  and  his  per 
sonal  appearance  and  mental  qualities  were  such  as  to  win  all 
hearts,  and  to  awaken  anticipations  of  a  beneficent  and  pros 
perous  reign.  He  was  of  a  noble  presence  and  great  bodily 
strength,  united  to  manly  beauty.  His  complexion  was  ex 
ceeding  fair,  and,  according  to  the  Arabian  chroniclers,  he 
heightened  the  gravity  and  majesty  of  his  appearance  by  suf 
fering  his  beard  to  grow  to  a  dignified  length,  and  dyeing  it 
black.  He  had  an  excellent  memory,  well  stored  with  science 
and  erudition;  he  was  of  a  lively  genius,  and  accounted  the 
best  poet  of  his  time,  and  his  manners  wene  gentle,  affable,  and 
urbane. 

Jusef  possessed  the  courage  common  to  all  generous  spirits, 
but  his  genius  was  more  calculated  for  peace  than  war,  and, 
though  obliged  to  take  up  arms  repeatedly  in  his  time,  he  was 
generally  unfortunate.  He  carried  the  benignity  of  his  nature 
into  warfare,  prohibiting  all  wanton  cruelty,  and  enjoining 
mercy  and  protection  towards  women  and  children,  the  aged 


210  THE  ALHAMBRA. 

and  infirm,  and  all  friars  and  persons  of  holy  and  recluse  life. 
Among  other  ill-starred  enterprises,  he  undertook  a  great  cam 
paign  in  conjunction  with  the  king  of  Morocco,  against  the 
kings  of  Castile  and  Portugal,  but  was  defeated  in  the  memor 
able  battle  of  Salado ;  a  disastrous  reverse  which  had  nearly 
proved  a  death  blow  to  the  Moslem  power  in  Spain. 

Jusef  obtained  a  long  truce  after  this  defeat,  during  which 
time  he  devoted  himself  to  the  instruction  of  his  people  and  the 
improvement  of  their  morals  and  manners.  For  this  purpose 
he  established  schools  in  all  the  villages,  with  simple  and  uni 
form  systems  of  education ;  he  obliged  every  hamlet  of  more 
than  twelve  houses  to  have  a  Mosque,  and  prohibited  various 
abuses  and  indecorums,  that  had  been  introduced  into  the  cere 
monies  of  religion,  and  the  festivals  and  public  amusements  of 
the  people.  He  attended  vigilantly  to  the  police  of  the  city, 
establishing  nocturnal  guards  and  patrols,  and  superintending 
all  municipal  concerns. 

His  attention  was  also  directed  towards  finishing  the  great 
architectural  works  commenced  by  his  predecessors,  and  erect- 
ing  others  on  his  own  plans.  The  Alhambra,  which  had  been 
founded  by  the  good  Aben  Alahmar,  was  now  completed. 
Jusef  constructed  the  beautiful  gate  of  Justice,  forming  the 
grand  entrance  to  the  fortress,  which  he  finished  in  1348.  He 
likewise  adorned  many  of  the  courts  and  halls  of  the  palace,  as 
maybe  seen  by  the  inscriptions  on  the  walls,  in  which  his  name 
repeatedly  occurs.  He  built  also  the  noble  Alcazar,  or  citadel 
of  Malaga ;  now  unfortunately  a  mere  mass  of  crumbHng  ruins, 
but  which  probably  exhibited  in  its  interior  similar  elegance 
and  magnificence  with  the  Alhambra. 

The  genius  of  a  sovereign  stamps  a  character  upon  his  time. 
Ihe  nobles  of  Granada,  imitating  the  elegant  and  graceful  taste 
of  Jusef,  soon  filled  the  city  of  Granada  with  magnificent  pal 
aces  ;  the  halls  of  which  were  paved  in  Mosaic,  the  walls  and 
ceilings  wrought  in  fret-work,  and  delicately  gilded  and  painted 
with  azure,  vermilion,  and  other  brilliant  colours,  or  minutely 
inlaid  with  cedar  and  other  precious  woods ;  specimens  of  which 
have  survived  in  all  their  lustre  the  lapse  of  several  centuries. 

Many  of  the  houses  had  fountains,  which  threw  up  jets  of 
water  to  refresh  and  cool  the  air.  They  had  lofty  towers  also, 
of  wood  or  stone,  curiously  carved  and  ornamented,  and  cov 
ered  with  plates  of  metal  that  glittered  in  the  sun.  Such  was 
the  refined  and  delicate  taste  in  architecture  that  prevailed 
among  this  elegant  people :  insomuch,  that  to  use  the  beautiful 


JUSEF  ABUL  HAGIA8. 

simile  of  an  Arabian  writer,  "Granada,  in  the  days  of  Jusef, 
was  as  a  silver  vase  filled  with  emeralds  and  jacinths." 

One  anecdote  will  be  sufficient  to  show  the  magnanimity  of 
this  generous  prince.  The  long  truce  which  had  succeeded  the 
battle  of  Salado  was  at  an  end,  and  every  effort  of  Jusef  t» 
renew  it  was  in  vain.  His  deadly  foe,  Alfonso  XI.  of  Castile, 
.(took  the  field  with  great  force,  and  laid  siege  to  Gibraltar. 
Jusef  reluctantly  took  up  arms,  and  sent  troops  to  the  relief  of 
the  place ;  when,  in  the  midst  of  his  anxiety,  he  received  tidings 
that  his  dreaded  foe  had  suddenly  fallen  a  victim  to  the  plague. 
Instead  of  manifesting  exultation  on  the  occasion,  Jusef  called 
to  mind  the  great  qualities  of  the  deceased,  and  was  touched 
with  a  noble  sorrow.  "Alas!"  cried  he,  "the  world  has  lost 
one  of  its  most  excellent  princes ;  a  sovereign  who  knew  how 
to  honour  merit,  whether  in  friend  or  foe  1" 

The  Spanish  chroniclers  themselves  bear  witness  to  this  mag 
nanimity.  According  to  their  accounts,  the  Moorish  cavaliers 
partook  of  the  sentiment  of  their  king,  and  put  on  mourning 
for  the  death  of  Alfonso.  Even  those  of  Gibraltar,  who  had 
been  so  closely  invested,  when  they  knew  that  the  hostile  mon 
arch  lay  dead  in  his  camp,  determined  among  themselves  that 
no  hostile  movement  should  be  made  against  the  Christians. 

The  day  on  which  the  camp  was  broken  up,  and  the  army 
departed,  bearing  the  corpse  of  Alfonso,  the  Moors  issued  in 
multitudes  from  Gibraltar,  and  stood  mute  and  melancholy, 
watching  the  mournful  pageant.  The  same  reverence  for  the 
deceased  was  observed  by  all  the  Moorish  commanders  on  the 
frontiers,  who  suffered  the  runeral  train  to  pass  in  safety, 
bearing  the  corpse  of  the  Christian  sovereign  from  Gibraltar  to 
Beville.* 

Jusef  did  not  long  survive  the  enemy  he  had  so  generously 
deplored.  In  the  year  1354,  as  he  was  one  day  praying  in  the 
royal  mosque  of  the  Alhambra,  a  maniac  rushed  suddenly 
from  behind,  and  plunged  a  dagger  in  his  side.  The  cries  of 
the  king  brought  his  guards  and  courtiers  to  his  assistance. 
They  found  him  weltering  in  his  blood,  and  in  convulsions. 
He  was  borne  to  the  royal  apartments,  but  expired  almost  im- 


*  "  Y  los  Mores  quo  estaban  en  Ja  villa  y  Castillo  de  Gibraltar  despues  que  sopteron 
que  el  Key  Don  Alonzo  era  muerto,  ordenaron  entresl  que  ninffuno  non  fuesse 
osado  de  faaer  nlngun  movimlento  contra  los  Chrlstlanos,  nln  mover  pelear  contra 
ellos,  estovieron  todos  quedos  y  dezian  entre  elloB  que  aquel  dia  muriera  im  nobll 
rey  y  gran  principe  del  mundol" 


TEE 

mediately.  The  murderer  was  cut  to  pieces,  and  his  Ihndi 
fcurnt  in  public,  to  gratify  the  fury  of  the  populace. 

The  body  of  the  king  was  interred  iu  a  superb  sepulchre  of 
•u'hite  marble;  a  long  epitaph  in  letters  of  gold  upon  an  azure 
ground  recorded  his  virtues.  "Here  lies  a  king  and  martyr  of 
an  illustrious  line,  gentle,  learned  and  virtuous;  renowned  for 
the  graces  of  his  person  and  his  manners;  whose  clemency, 
piety  and  benevolence  were  extolled  throughout  the  kingdom 
of  Granada.  He  was  a  great  prince,  an  illustrious  captain;  £ 
sharp  sword  of  the  Moslems;  a  valiant  standard-bearer  among 
the  most  potent  monarchs,"  etc. 

The  mosque  still  remains,  which  once  resounded  with  the 
iying  cries  of  Jusef,  but  the  monument  which  recorded  hia 
virtues  has  long  since  disappeared.  His  name,  however,  re 
mains  inscribed  among  the  ornaments  of  the  Alhambra,  and 
will  be  perpetuated  in  connection  with  this  renowned  pile, 
*iuvh  it  was  his  pride  and  delight  to  beautify. 


OLFERT'S    ROOST, 


AND 


BY 


WASHINGTON  IRVING, 


WOLFERT'S  EOOST  AND  MISCELLANIES. 


CONTENTS. 


MM 
CHRONICLE  OF  WOLFERT'S  ROOST 11 

SLEEPY  HOLLOW 25 

BIRDS  OF  SPRING 35 

RECOLLECTIONS  or  THE  ALHAMBRA 40 

A  BENCERRAGE 43 

ENCHANTED  ISLAND 53 

ADELANTADO  OF  TH«  SEVEN  CITHS 55 

NATIONAL  NOMENCLATURE 69 

DESULTORY  THOUGHTS  ON  CRITICISM 74 

SPANISH  ROMANCE 78 

LEGEND  OF  DON  MUNIO  SANCHO  DK  HINOJOSA. 81 

COMMUNIPAW 86 

CONSPIRACY  OF  THE  COCKED  HATS 93 

LEGEND  OF  COMMUNIPAW 98 

BERMUDAS,  THB 109 

PELAYO  AND  THE  MERCHANT'S  DAUGHTER 119 

KNIGHT  OF  MALTA 127 

LEGEND  OF  THE  EMQULPHED  CONTENT 143 

COUKT  YAM  HORN 148 


WOLFERT'S    ROOST 


AND 


MISCELLANIES. 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  WOLFERT'S  ROOST. 

TO  THE  EDITOR  OF  THE  KNICKERBOCKER. 

SIR  :  I  have  observed  that  as  a  man  advances  in  life,  he  is 
subject  to  a  kind  of  plethora  of  the  mind,  doubtless  occasioned 
by  the  vast  accumulation  of  wisdom  and  experience  upon  the 
brain.  Hence  he  is  apt  to  become  narrative  and  admonitory,  that 
is  to  say,  fond  of  telling  long  stories,  and  of  doling  out  advice,  to 
the  small  profit  and  great  annoyance  of  his  friends.  As  I  have 
a  great  horror  of  becoming  the  oracle,  or,  more  technically  speak 
ing,  the  "  bore,"  of  the  domestic  circle,  and  would  much  rather 
bestow  my  wisdom  and  tediousness  upon  the  world  at  large,  I 
have  always  sought  to  ease  off  this  surcharge  of  the  intellect 
by  means  of  my  pen,  and  hence  have  inflicted  divers  gossiping 
volumes  upon  the  patience  of  the  public.  I  am  tired,  however, 
of  writing  volumes ;  they  do  not  afford  exactly  the  relief  I  re 
quire  ;  there  is  too  much  preparation,  arrangement,  and  parade, 
in  this  set  form  of  coming  before  the  public.  I  am  growing  too 
indolent  and  unambitious  for  any  thing  that  requires  labor  or 
display.  I  have  thought,  therefore,  of  securing  to  myself  a 
snug  corner  in  some  periodical  work  where  I  might,  as  it  were, 
loll  at  my  ease  in  my  elbow-chair,  and  chat  sociably  with  the 
public,  as  with  an  old  friend,  on  any  chance  subject  that  might 
pop  into  my  brain. 

In  looking  around,  for  this  purpose,  upon  the  various  excel 
lent  periodicals  with  which  our  country  abounds,  my  eye  was 
struck  by  the  title  of  your  work — "  THE  KNICKERBOCKER."  My 
heart  leaped  at  the  sight. 


6  WOLFERTS  ROOST  AND  MISCELLANIES. 

DIEDRICH  KNICKERBOCKER,  Sir,  was  one  of  my  earliest  and 
most  valued  friends,  and  the  recollection  of  him  is  associated 
with  some  of  the  pleasantest  scenes  of  my  youthful  days. 
To  explain  this,  and  to  show  how  I  came  into  possession  of 
sundry  of  his  posthumous  works,  which  I  have  from  time  to 
time  given  to  the  world,  permit  me  to  relate  a  few  particulars 
of  our  early  intercourse.  I  give  them  with  the  more  confi 
dence,  as  I  know  the  interest  you  take  in  that  departed  worthy, 
whose  name  and  effigy  are  stamped  upon  your  title-page,  and 
as  they  will  be  found  important  to  the  better  understanding  and 
relishing  divers  communications  I  may  have  to  make  to  you. 

My  first  acquaintance  with  that  great  and  good  man,  for 
such  I  may  venture  to  call  him,  now  that  the  lapse  of  some 
thirty  years  has  shrouded  his  name  with  venerable  antiquity, 
and  the  popular  voice  has  elevated  him  to  the  rank  of  the 
classic  historians  of  yore,  my  first  acquaintance  with  him  was 
formed  on  the  banks  of  the  Hudson,  not  far  from  the  wizard 
region  of  Sleepy  Hollow.  He  had  come  there  in  the  course  of 
his  researches  among  the  Dutch  neighborhoods  for  materials 
for  his  immortal  history.  For  this  purpose,  he  was  ransacking 
the  archives  of  one  of  the  most  ancient  and  historical  man 
sions  in  the  country.  It  was  a  lowly  edifice,  built  in  the  time 
of  the  Dutch  dynasty,  and  stood  on  a  green  bank,  over 
shadowed  by  trees,  from  which  it  peeped  forth  upon  the  Great 
Tappan  Zee,  so  famous  among  early  Dutch  navigators.  A 
bright  pure  spring  welled  up  at  the  foot  of  the  green  bank ;  a 
wild  brook  came  babbling  down  a  neighboring  ravine,  and 
threw  itself  iuto  a  little  woody  cove,  in  front  of  the  mansion.  It 
was  indeed  as  quiet  and  sheltered  a  nook  as  the  heart  of  man 
could  require,  in  which  to  take  refuge  from  the  cares  and 
troubles  of  the  world ;  and  as  such,  it  had  been  chosen  in  old 
times,  by  Wolf  ert  Acker,  one  of  the  privy  councillors  of  the  re 
nowned  Peter  Stuyvesant. 

This  worthy  but  ill-starred  man  had  led  a  weary  and  worried 
life,  throughout  the  stormy  reign  of  the  chivalric  Peter,  being 
one  of  those  unlucky  wights  with  whom  the  world  is  ever  at 
variance,  and  who  are  kept  in  a  continual  fume  and  fret,  by  the 
wickedness  of  mankind.  At  the  time  of  the  subjugation  of 
the  province  by  the  English,  he  retired  hither  in  high  dudgeon ; 
with  the  bitter  determination  to  bury  himself  from  the  world, 
and  live  here  in  peace  and  quietness  for  the  remainder  of  his 
days.  In  token  of  this  fixed  resolution,  he  inscribed  over  his 
door  the  favorite  Dutch  motto,  "Lust  in  Bust,"  (pleasure  in 


A   CHRONICLE  OF   WOLFERT'S  BOOST.  7 

repose.)  The  mansion  was  thence  called  "  Wolfert's  Rust " — 
Wolfert's  Eest ;  but  in  process  of  time,  the  name  was  vitiated 
into  Wolfert's  Eoost,  probably  from  its  quaint  cock-loft  look, 
or  from  its  having  a  weather-cock  perched  on  every  gable. 
This  name  it  continued  to  bear,  long  after  the  unlucky  Wolfert 
was  driven  forth  once  more  upon  a  wrangling  world,  by  the 
tongue  of  a  termagant  wife ;  for  it  passed  into  a  proverb 
through  the  neighborhood,  and  has  been  handed  down  by  tra 
dition,  that  the  cock  of  the  Boost  was  the  most  hen-pecked  bird 
in  the  country. 

This  primitive  and  historical  mansion  has  since  passed 
through  many  changes  and  trials,  which  it  may  be  my  lot 
hereafter  to  notice.  At  the  time  of  the  sojourn  of  Diedrich 
Knickerbocker  it  was  in  possession  of  the  gallant  family  of  the 
Van  Tassels,  who  have  figured  so  conspicuously  in  his  writings. 
What  appears  to  have  given  it  peculiar  value,  in  his  eyes,  was 
the  rich  treasury  of  historical  facts  here  secretly  hoarded  up, 
like  buried  gold ;  for  it  is  said  that  Wolfert  Acker,  when  he  re 
treated  from  New  Amsterdam,  carried  off  with  him  many  of 
the  records  and  journals  of  the  province,  pertaining  to  the 
Dutch  dynasty ;  swearing  that  they  should  never  fall  into  the 
hands  of  the  English.  These,  like  the  lost  books  of  Livy,  had 
baffled  the  research  of  former  historians ;  but  these  did  I  find 
the  indefatigable  Diedrich  diligently  deciphering.  He  was 
already  a  sage  in  years  and  experience,  I  but  an  idle  stripling; 
yet  he  did  not  despise  my  youth  and  ignorance,  but  took  me 
kindly  by  the  hand,  and  led  me  gently  into  those  paths  of  local 
and  traditional  lore  which  he  was  so  fond  of  exploring.  I  sat 
with  him  in  his  little  chamber  at  the  Eoost,  and  watched  the 
antiquarian  patience  and  perseverance  with  which  he  deciphered 
those  venerable  Dutch  documents,  worse  than  Herculanean 
manuscripts.  I  sat  with  him  by  the  spring,  at  the  foot  of  the 
green  bank,  and  listened  to  his  heroic  tales  about  the  wor 
thies  of  the  olden  time,  the  paladins  of  New  Amsterdam.  I 
accompanied  him  in  his  legendary  researches  about  Tarrytown 
and  Sing-Sing,  and  explored  with  him  the  spell-bound  recesses 
of  Sleepy  Hollow.  I  was  present  at  many  of  his  conferences 
with  the  good  old  Dutch  burghers  and  their  wives,  from  whom 
he  derived  many  of  those  marvellous  facts  not  laid  down  in 
books  or  records,  and  which  give  such  superior  value  and 
authenticity  to  his  history,  over  all  others  that  have  been  writ 
ten  concerning  the  New  Netherlands. 

But  let  me  check  my  proneness  to  dilate  upon  this  favorite 


8  WOLFERTS  ROOST  AND  MISCELLANIES. 

theme;  I  may  recur  to  it  hereafter.  Suffice  it  to  say,  the  inti 
macy  thus  formed,  continued  for  a  considerable  time ;  and  in 
company  with  the  worthy  Diedrich,  I  visited  many  of  the 
places  celebrated  by  his  pen.  The  currents  of  our  lives  at 
length  diverged.  He  remained  at  home  to  complete  his  mighty 
work,  while  a  vagrant  fancy  led  me  to  wander  about  the  world. 
Many,  many  years  elapsed,  before  I  returned  to  the  parent  soil. 
In  the  interim,  the  venerable  historian  of  the  New  Netherlands 
had  been  gathered  to  his  fathers,  but  his  name  had  risen  to 
renown.  His  native  city,  that  city  in  which  he  so  much 
delighted,  had  decreed  all  manner  of  costly  honors  to  his 
memory.  I  found  his  effigy  imprinted  upon  new-year  cakes, 
and  devoured  with  eager  relish  by  holiday  urchins;  a  great 
oyster-house  bore  the  name  of  ' '  Knickerbocker  Hall ;"  and  I 
narrowly  escaped  the  pleasure  of  being  run  over  by  a  Knicker 
bocker  omnibus ! 

Proud  of  having  associated  with  a  man  who  had  achieved 
such  greatness,  I  now  recalled  our  early  intimacy  with  tenfold 
pleasure,  and  sought  to  revisit  the  scenes  we  had  trodden  to 
gether.  The  most  important  of  these  was  the  mansion  of  the 
Van  Tassels,  the  Roost  of  the  unfortunate  Wolfert.  Tune, 
which  changes  all  things,  is  but  slow  in  its  operations  upon  a 
Dutchman's  dwelling.  I  found  the  venerable  and  quaint  little 
edifice  much  as  I  had  seen  it  during  the  sojourn  of  Diedrich. 
There  stood  his  elbow-chair  in  the  corner  of  the  room  he  had 
occupied;  the  old-fashioned  Dutch  writing-desk  at  which  he 
had  pored  over  the  chronicles  of  the  Manhattoes ;  there  was 
the  old  wooden  chest,  with  the  archives  left  by  Wolfert  Acker, 
many  of  which,  however,  had  been  fired  off  as  wadding  from 
the  long  duck  gun  of  the  Van  Tassels.  The  scene  around  the 
mansion  was  still  the  same ;  the  green  bank ;  the  spring  beside 
which  I  had  listened  to  the  legendary  narratives  of  the  histo 
rian  ;  the  wild  brook  babbling  down  to  the  woody  cove,  and  the 
overshadowing  locust  trees,  half  shutting  out  the  prospect  of 
the  great  Tappan  Zee. 

As  I  looked  round  upon  the  scene,  my  heart  yearned  at  the 
recollection  of  my  departed  friend,  and  I  wistfully  eyed  the 
mansion  which  he  had  inhabited,  and  which  was  fast  moulder 
ing  to  decay.  The  thought  struck  me  to  arrest  the  desolating 
hand  of  Time;  to  rescue  the  historic  pile  from  utter  ruin,  and 
to  make  it  the  closing  scene  of  my  wanderings ;  a  quiet  home, 
where  I  might  enjoy  "lust  in  rust"  for  the  remainder  of  my 
days.  It  is  true,  the  fate  of  the  unlucky  Wolfert  passed  across 


A   CHRONICLE  OF  WOLFERT8  ROOST.  9 

my  mind ;  but  I  consoled  myself  with  the  reflection  that  I  was 
a  bachelor,  and  that  I  had  no  termagant  wife  to  dispute  the 
sovereignty  of  the  Roost  with  me. 

I  have  become  possessor  of  the  Roost !  I  have  repaired  and 
renovated  it  with  religious  care,  in  the  genuine  Dutch  style, 
and  have  adorned  and  illustrated  it  with  sundry  reliques  of  the 
glorious  days  of  the  New  Netherlands.  A  venerable  weather 
cock,  of  portly  Dutch  dimensions,  which  once  battled  with  the 
wind  on  the  top  of  the  Stadt-House  of  New  Amsterdam,  in  the 
time  of  Peter  Stuyvesant,  now  erects  its  crest  on  the  gable  end 
of  my  edifice ;  a  gilded  horse  in  full  gallop,  once  the  weather 
cock  of  the  great  Vander  Heyden  Palace  of  Albany,  now  glit 
ters  in  the  sunshine,  and  veers  with  every  breeze,  on  the  peaked 
turret  over  my  portal ;  my  sanctum  sanctorum  is  the  chamber 
once  honored  by  the  illustrious  Diedrich,  and  it  is  from  his 
elbow-chair,  and  his  identical  old  Dutch  writing-desk,  that  I 
pen  this  rambling  epistle. 

Here,  then,  have  I  set  up  my  rest,  surrounded  by  the  recol 
lections  of  early  days,  and  the  mementoes  of  the  historian  of 
the  Manhattoes,  with  that  glorious  river  before  me,  which 
flows  with  such  majesty  through  his  works,  and  which  has 
ever  been  to  me  a  river  of  delight. 

I  thank  God  I  was  born  on  the  banks  of  the  Hudson!  I 
think  it  an  invaluable  advantage  to  be  born  and  brought  up  in 
the  neighborhood  of  some  grand  and  noble  object  in  nature ;  a 
river,  a  lake,  or  a  mountain.  We  make  a  friendship  with  it, 
we  in  a  manner  ally  ourselves  to  it  for  lif e.  It  remains  an 
object  of  our  pride  and  affections,  a  rallying  point,  to  caU  us 
home  again  after  all  our  wanderings.  "  The  things  which  we 
have  learned  in  our  childhood,"  says  an  old  writer,  "  grow  up 
with  our  souls,  and  unite  themselves  to  it."  So  it  is  with  the 
scenes  among  which  we  have  passed  our  early  days ;  they  in 
fluence  the  whole  course  of  our  thoughts  and  feelings ;  and  I 
fancy  I  can  trace  much  of  what  is  good  and  pleasant  in  my 
own  heterogeneous  compound  to  my  early  companionship  with 
this  glorious  river.  In  the  warmth  of  my  youthful  enthusiasm, 
I  used  to  clothe  it  with  moral  attributes,  and  almost  to  give  it  a 
soul.  I  admired  its  frank,  bold,  honest  character;  its  noble 
sincerity  and  perfect  truth.  Here  was  no  specious,  smiling 
surface,  covering  the  dangerous  sand-bar  or  perfidious  rock; 
but  a  stream  deep  as  it  was  broad,  and  bearing  with  honorable 
faith  the  bark  that  trusted  to  its  waves.  I  gloried  in  its  simple, 
quiet,  majestic,  epic  flow;  ever  straight  forward.  Once,  in- 


10  WOLFERTS  ROOST  AND  MISCELLANIES. 

deed,  it  turns  aside  for  a  moment,  forced  from  its  course  by 
opposing  mountains,  but  it  struggles  bravely  through  them, 
and  immediately  resumes  its  straightforward  march.  Behold, 
thought  I,  an  emblem  of  a  good  man's  course  through  life; 
ever  simple,  open,  and  direct;  or  if,  overpowered  by  adverse 
circumstances,  he  deviate  into  error,  it  is  but  momentary ;  he 
soon  recovers  his  onward  and  honorable  career,  and  continues 
it  to  the  end  of  his  pilgrimage. 

Excuse  this  rhapsody,  into  which  I  have  been  betrayed  by  a 
revival  of  early  f eelings.  The  Hudson  is,  in  a  manner,  my  first 
<ind  last  love ;  and  after  all  my  wanderings  and  seeming  infi 
delities,  I  return  to  it  with  a  heart-felt  preference  over  all  the 
other  rivers  in  the  world.  I  seem  to  catch  new  life  as  I  bathe 
in  its  ample  billows  and  inhale  the  pure  breezes  of  its  hills.  It 
is  true,  the  romance  of  youth  is  past,  that  once  spread  illusions 
over  every  scene.  I  can  no  longer  picture  an  Arcadia  in  every 
green  valley ;  nor  a  fairy  land  among  the  distant  mountains ; 
nor  a  peerless  beauty  in  every  villa  gleaming  among  the  trees ; 
but  though  the  illusions  of  youth  have  faded  from  the  land 
scape,  the  recollections  of  departed  years  and  departed  pleas 
ures  shed  over  it  the  mellow  charm  of  evening  sunshine. 

Permit  me,  then,  Mr.  Editor,  through  the  medium  of  your 
work,  to  hold  occasional  discourse  from  my  retreat  with  the 
busy  world  I  have  abandoned.  I  have  much  to  say  about  what 
I  have  seen,  heard,  felt,  and  thought  through  the  course  of  a 
varied  and  rambling  life,  and  some  lucubrations  that  have  long 
been  encumbering  my  portfolio;  together  with  divers  remi 
niscences  of  the  venerable  historian  of  the  New  Netherlands, 
that  may  not  be  unacceptable  to  those  who  have  taken  an 
interest  in  his  writings,  and  are  desirous  of  any  thing  that  may 
cast  a  light  back  upon  our  early  history.  Let  your  readers 
rest  assured  of  one  thing,  that,  though  retired  from  the  world, 
I  am  not  disgusted  with  it ;  and  that  if  in  my  communings 
with  it  I  do  not  prove  very  wise,  I  trust  I  shall  at  least  prove 
very  good-natured. 

Which  is  all  at  present,  from 

Yours,  etc., 

GEOFFREY  CRAYON. 

TO  THE  EDITOR  OF  THE  KNICKERBOCKER. 

WORTHY  SIR:  In  a  preceding  communication,  I  have  given 
you  some  brief  notice  of  Wolfert's  Roost,  the  mansion  where  I 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  WOLFERFS  ROOST.  H 

first  had  the  good  fortune  to  become  acquainted  with  the  ven 
erable  historian  of  the  New  Netherlands.  As  this  ancient  edi 
fice  is  likely  to  be  the  place  whence  I  shall  date  many  of  my 
lucubrations,  and  as  it  is  really  a  very  remarkable  little  pile, 
intimately  connected  with  all  the  great  epochs  of  our  local  and 
national  history,  I  have  thought  it  but  right  to  give  some 
farther  particulars  concerning  it.  Fortunately,  in  rummaging 
a  ponderous  Dutch  chest  of  drawers,  which  serves  as  the 
archives  of  the  Roost,  and  in  which  are  preserved  many 
inedited  manuscripts  of  Mr.  KNICKERBOCKER,  together  with  the 
precious  records  of  New- Amsterdam,  brought  hither  by  Wolf  ert 
Acker  at  the  downfall  of  the  Dutch  dynasty,  as  has  been 
already  mentioned,  I  found  in  one  corner,  among  dried  pump 
kin-seeds,  bunches  of  thyme,  and  pennyroyal,  and  crumbs  of 
new-year  cakes,  a  manuscript,  carefully  wrapped  up  in  the 
fragment  of  an  old  parchment  deed,  but  much  blotted,  and  the 
ink  grown  foxy  by  time,  which,  on  inspection,  I  discovered  to 
be  a  faithful  chronicle  of  the  Roost.  The  hand-writing,  and 
certain  internal  evidences,  leave  no  doubt  in  my  mind,  that  it 
is  a  genuine  production  of  the  venerable  historian  of  the  New- 
Netherlands,  written,  very  probably,  during  his  residence  at 
the  Roost,  in  gratitude  for  the  hospitality  of  its  proprietor. 
As  such,  I  submit  it  for  publication.  As  the  entire  chronicle  is 
too  long  for  the  pages  of  your  Magazine,  and  as  it  contains 
many  minute  particulars,  which  might  prove  tedious  to  the 
general  reader,  I  have  abbreviated  and  occasionally  omitted 
some  of  its  details ;  but  may  hereafter  furnish  them  separately, 
should  they  seem  to  be  required  by  the  curiosity  of  an  enlight 
ened  and  document-hunting  public. 

Respectfully  yours, 
t  GEOFFREY  CRAYON. 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  WOLFERT'S  ROOST. 

FOUND    AMONG    THE    PAPERS    OF    THE    LATE    DIEDRICH    KNICKER 
BOCKER. 

ABOUT  five-and-twenty  miles  from  the  ancient  and  renowned 
city  of  Manhattan,  formerly  called  New- Amsterdam,  and  vul 
garly  called  New- York,  on  the  eastern  bank  of  that  expansion 
of  the  Hudson,  known  among  Dutch  mariners  of  yore,  a»  the 


12  WOLFERT'S  ROOST  AND  MISCELLANIES. 

Tappan  Zee,  being  in  fact  the  great  Mediterranean  Soa  of  the 
New-Netherlands,  stands  a  little  old-fashioned  stone  mansion, 
all  made  up  of  gable-ends,  and  as  full  of  angles  and  corners  as 
an  old  cocked  hat.  Though  but  of  small  dimensions,  yet,  like 
many  small  people,  it  is  of  mighty  spirit,  and  values  itself 
greatly  on  its  antiquity,  being  one  of  the  oldest  edifices,  for  its 
size,  in  the  whole  country.  It  claims  to  be  an  ancient  seat  of 
empire,  I  may  rather  say  an  empire  in  itself,  and  like  all  em 
pires,  great  and  small,  has  had  its  grand  historical  epochs.  In 
speaking  of  this  doughty  and  valorous  little  pile,  I  shall  call  it 
by  its  usual  appellation  of  "  The  Roost;"  though  that  is  a  name 
given  to  it  in  modern  days,  since  it  became  the  abode  of  the 
white  man. 

Its  origin,  in  truth,  dates  far  back  in  that  remote  region  com 
monly  called  the  fabulous  age,  in  which  vulgar  fact  becomes 
mystified,  and  tinted  up  with  delectable  fiction.  The  eastern 
shore  of  the  Tappan  Sea  was  inhabited  in  those  days  by  an 
unsophisticated  race,  existing  in  all  the  simplicity  of  nature ; 
that  is  to  say,  they  lived  by  hunting  and  fishing,  and  recreated 
themselves  occasionally  with  a  little  tomahawking  and  scalp 
ing.  Each  stream  that  flows  down  from  the  hills  into  the 
Hudson,  had  its  petty  sachem,  who  ruled  over  a  hand's-breadth 
of  forest  on  either  side,  and  had  his  seat  of  government  at  ite 
mouth.  The  chieftain  who  ruled  at  the  Roost,  was  not  merely 
a  great  warrior,  but  a  medicine-man,  or  prophet,  or  conjurer, 
for  they  all  mean  the  same  thing,  in  Indian  parlance.  Of  his 
fighting  propensities,  evidences  still  remain,  in  various  arrow 
heads  of  flint,  and  stone  battle-axes,  occasionally  digged  up 
about  the  Roost :  of  his  wizard  powers,  we  have  a  token  in  a 
spring  which  wells  up  at  the  foot  of  the  bank,  on  the  very 
margin  of  the  river,  which,  it  is  said,  was  gifted  by  him  with 
rejuvenating  powers,  something  like  the  renowned  Fountain  of 
Youth  in  the  Floridas,  so  anxiously  but  vainly  sought  after  by 
the  veteran  Ponce  de  Leon.  This  story,  however,  is  stoutly 
contradicted  by  an  old  Dutch  matter-of-fact  tradition,  which 
declares  that  the  spring  in  question  was  smuggled  over  from 
Holland  in  a  churn,  by  Femmetie  Van  Slocum,  wife  of  Goosen 
Garret  Van  Slocum,  one  of  the  first  settlers,  and  that  she  took 
it  up  by  night,  unknown  to  her  husband,  from  beside  their 
farm-house  near  Rotterdam;  being  sure  she  should  find  no 
water  equal  to  it  in  the  new  country— and  she  was  right. 

The  wizard  sachem  had  a  great  passion  for  discussing  terri 
torial  questions,  and  settling  boundary  lines ;  this  kept  him  ia 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  WOLFERT'S  ROOST.  13 

continual  feud  with  the  neighboring  sachems,  each  of  whom 
stood  up  stoutly  for  his  hand-breadth  of  territory  ;  so  that  there 
is  not  a  petty  stream  nor  ragged  hill  in  the  neighborhood,  that 
has  not  been  the  subject  of  long  talks  and  hard  battles.  The 
sachem,  however,  as  has  been  observed,  was  a  medicine-man, 
as  well  as  warrior,  and  vindicated  his  claims  by  arts  as  well  as 
arms ;  so  that,  by  dint  of  a  little  hard  fighting  here,  and  hocus- 
pocus  there,  he  managed  to  extend  his  boundary-line  from  field 
to  field  and  stream  to  stream,  until  he  found  himself  in  legiti 
mate  possession  of  that  region  of  hills  and  valleys,  bright 
fountains  and  limpid  brooks,  locked  in  by  the  mazy  windings 
of  the  Neperan  and  the  Pocantico.* 

This  last-mentioned  stream,  or  rather  the  valley  through 
which  it  flows,  was  the  most  difficult  of  all  his  acquisitions.  It 
lay  half  way  to  the  strong-hold  of  the  redoubtable  sachem  of 
Sing-Sing,  and  was  claimed  by  him  as  an  integral  part  of  his 
domains.  Many  were  the  sharp  conflicts  between  the  rival 
chieftains  for  the  sovereignty  of  this  valley,  and  many  the 
ambuscades,  surprisals,  and  deadly  onslaughts  that  took  place 
among  its  fastnesses,  of  which  it  grieves  me  much  that  I  can 
not  furnish  the  details  for  the  gratification  of  those  gentle  but 
bloody-minded  readers  of  both  sexes,  who  delight  in  the  romance 
of  the  tomahawk  and  scalping-knife.  Suffice  it  to  say  that  the 
wizard  chieftain  was  at  length  victorious,  though  his  victory  is 
attributed  in  Indian  tradition  to  a  great  medicine  or  charm  by 
which  he  laid  the  sachem  of  Sing-Sing  and  his  warriors  asleep 
among  the  rocks  and  recesses  of  the  valley,  where  they  remain 
asleep  to  the  present  day  with  their  bows  and  war-clubs  beside 
them.  This  was  the  origin  of  that  potent  and  drowsy  spell 
which  still  prevails  over  the  valley  of  the  Pocantico,  and  which 
has  gained  it  the  well-merited  appellation  of  Sleepy  Hollow. 
Often,  in  secluded  and  quiet  parts  of  that  valley,  where  the 
stream  is  overhung  by  dark  woods  and  rocks,  the  ploughman, 

*As  EVERY  one  may  not  recognize  these  boundaries  by  their  original  Indian 
names,  it  may  be  well  to  observe,  that  the  Neperan  is  that  beautiful  stream,  vul, 
garly  called  the  Saw-Mill  River,  which,  after  winding  gracefully  for  many  miles 
through  a  lovely  valley,  shrouded  by  groves,  and  dotted  by  Dutch  farm-houses, 
empties  itself  into  the  Hudson,  at  the  ancient  dorp  of  Yonkers.  The  Pocantico  is 
that  hitherto  nameless  brook,  that,  rising  among  woody  hills,  winds  in  many  a 
wizard  maze  through  the  sequestered  haunts  of  Sleepy  Hollow.  We  owe  it  to  the 
indefatigable  researches  of  Mr.  KNICKERBOCKER,  that  those  beautiful  streams  are 
rescued  from  modern  common-place,  and  reinvested  with  their  ancient  Indian 
names.  The  correctness  of  the  venerable  historian  may  be  ascertained,  by  refer 
ence  to  the  records  of  the  original  Indian  grants  to  the  Herr  Frederick  Philipsen, 
preserved  in  the  county  clerk's  office,  at  White  Plains. 


14  WOLFERTS  ROOST  AND  MISCELLANIES. 

on  some  calm  and  sunny  day  as  he  shouts  to  his  oxen,  is  sur 
prised  at  hearing  faint  shouts  from  the  hill-sides  in  reply; 
being,  it  is  said,  the  spell-bound  warriors,  who  half  start  from 
their  rorV  y  couches  and  grasp  their  weapons,  but  sink  to  sleep 
again. 

The  conquest  of  the  Pocantico  was  the  last  triumph  of  the 
wizard  sachem.  Notwithstanding  all  his  medicine  and  charms, 
he  fell  in  battle  in  attempting  to  extend  his  boundary  line  to 
the  east  so  as  to  take  in  the  little  wild  valley  of  the  Sprain, 
and  his  grave  is  still  shown  near  the  banks  of  that  pastoral 
stream.  He  left,  however,  a  great  empire  to  his  successors, 
extending  along  the  Tappan  Zee,  from  Yonkers  quite  to  Sleepy 
Hollow ;  all  which  delectable  region,  if  every  one  had  his  right, 
would  still  acknowledge  allegiance  to  the  lord  of  the  Roost — 
whoever  he  might  be.* 

The  wizard  sachem  was  succeeded  by  a  line  of  chiefs,  of 
whom  nothing  remarkable  remains  on  record.  The  last  who 
makes  any  figure  in  history  is  the  one  who  ruled  here  at  the 
time  of  the  discovery  of  the  country  by  the  white  man.  This 
sachem  is  said  to  have  been  a  renowned  trencherman,  who 
maintained  almost  as  potent  a  sway  by  dint  of  good  feeding  as 
his  warlike  predecessor  had  done  by  hard  fighting.  He  dili 
gently  cultivated  the  growth  of  oysters  along  the  aquatic 
borders  of  his  territories,  and  founded  those  great  oyster-beds 
which  yet  exist  along  the  shores  of  the  Tappan  Zee.  Did  any 
dispute  occur  between  him  and  a  neighboring  sachem,  he  in 
vited  him  and  all  his  principal  sages  and  fighting-men  to  a 
solemn  banquet,  and  seldom  failed  of  feeding  them  into  terms. 
Enormous  heaps  of  oyster-shells,  which  encumber  the  lofty 
banks  of  the  river,  remain  as  monuments  of  his  gastronomical 
victories,  and  have  been  occasionally  adduced  through  mistake 
by  amateur  geologists  from  town,  as  additional  proofs  of  the 
deluge.  Modern  investigators,  who  are  making  such  indefati 
gable  researches  into  our  early  history,  have  even  affirmed  that 
this  sachem  was  the  very  individual  on  whom  Master  Hendrick 
Hudson  and  his  mate,  Robert  Juet,  made  that  sage  and 

*  In  recording  the  contest  for  the  sovereignty  of  Sleepy  Hollow,  I  have  called 
one  gachem  by  the  modern  name  of  his  castle  or  strong-hold,  viz. :  Sing-Sing.  This, 
I  would  observe  for  the  sake  of  historical  exactness,  is  a  corruption  of  the  old 
Indian  name,  O-sin-sing,  or  rather  O-sin-gong;  that  is  to  say,  a  place  where  any 
thing  may  be  had  for  a  song— a  great  recommendation  for  a  market  town.  The 
modern  and  melodious  alteration  of  the  name  to  Sing-Sing  is  said  to  have  been 
made  in  compliment  to  an  eminent  Methodist  singing-master,  who  first  introduced 
into  the  neighborhood  the  art  of  simymj  through  the  nose.  D.  K. 


A   CHRONICLE  OF  WOLFERTS  ROOST.  15 

astounding  experiment  so  gravely  recorded  by  the  latter  in  his 
narrative  of  the  voyage:  "Our  master  and  his  mate  deter 
mined  to  try  some  of  the  cheefe  men  of  the  country  whether 
they  had  any  treacherie  in  them.  So  they  took  them  down 
into  the  cabin  and  gave  them  so  much  wine  and  aqua  vitae 
that  they  were  all  very  merrie ;  one  of  them  had  his  wife  with 
him,  which  sate  so  modestly  as  any  of  our  countrywomen 
would  do  in  a  strange  place.  In  the  end  one  of  them  was 
drunke ;  and  that  was  strange  to  them,  for  they  could  not  tell 
how  to  take  it."* 

How  far  Master  Hendrick  Hudson  and  his  worthy  mate  car 
ried  their  experiment  with  the  sachem's  wife  is  not  recorded, 
neither  does  the  curious  Robert  Juet  make  any  mention  of  the 
after-consequences  of  this  grand  moral  test;  tradition,  how 
ever,  affirms  that  the  sachem  on  landing  gave  his  modest 
spouse  a  hearty  rib-roasting,  according  to  the  connubial  disci 
pline  of  the  aboriginals ;  it  farther  affirms  that  he  remained  a 
hard  drinker  to  the  day  of  his  death,  trading  away  all  his 
lands,  acre  by  acre,  for  aqua  vitse ;  by  which  means  the  Roost 
and  all  its  domains,  from  Yonkers  to  Sleepy  Hollow,  came,  in 
the  regular  course  of  trade  and  by  right  of  purchase,  into  the 
possession  of  the  Dutchmen. 

Never  has  a  territorial  right  in  these  new  countries  been 
more  legitimately  and  tradefully  established ;  yet,  I  grieve  to 
say,  the  worthy  government  of  the  New  Netherlands  was  not 
suffered  to  enjoy  this  grand  acquisition  unmolested ;  for,  in  the 
year  1654,  the  losel  Yankees  of  Connecticut — those  swapping, 
bargaining,  squatting  enemies  of  the  Manhattoes — made  a 
daring  inroad  into  this  neighborhood  and  founded  a  colony 
called  Westchester,  or,  as  the  ancient  Dutch  records  term  it, 
Vest  Dorp,  in  the  right  of  one  Thomas  Pell,  who  pretended  to 
have  purchased  the  whole  surrounding  country  of  the  Indians, 
1  and  stood  ready  to  argue  their  claims  before  any  tribunal  of 
Christendom. 

This  happened  during  the  chivalrous  reign  of  Peter  Stuyve- 
sant,  and  it  roused  the  ire  of  that  gunpowder  old  hero ;  who, 
without  waiting  to  discuss  claims  and  titles,  pounced  at  once 
upon  the  nest  of  nefarious  squatters,  carried  off  twenty-five  of 
them  in  chains  to  the  Manhattoes,  nor  did  he  stay  his  hand, 
nor  give  rest  to  his  wooden  leg,  until  he  had  driven  every 
Yankee  back  into  the  bounds  of  Connecticut,  or  obliged  him 

*  See  Juet's  Journal.  Purchas  Pilgrim. 


16  WOLFERTS  ROOST  AND  MISCELLANIES. 

to  acknowledge  allegiance  to  their  High  Mightinesses.  He 
then  established  certain  out-posts,  far  in  the  Indian  country, 
to  keep  an  eye  over  these  debateable  lands;  one  of  these 
border-holds  was  the  Roost,  being  accessible  from  New  Amster 
dam  by  water,  and  easily  kept  supplied.  The  Yankees,  how 
ever,  had  too  great  a  hankering  after  this  delectable  region  to 
give  it  up  entirely.  Some  remained  and  swore  allegiance  to 
the  Manhattoes ;  but,  while  they  kept  this  open  semblance  of 
fealty,  they  went  to  work  secretly  and  vigorously  to  inter 
marry  and  multiply,  and  by  these  nefarious  means,  artfully 
propagated  themselves  into  possession  of  a  wide  tract  of  those 
open,  arable  parts  of  Westchester  county,  lying  along  the 
Sound,  where  their  descendants  may  be  found  at  the  present 
day ;  while  the  mountainous  regions  along  the  Hudson,  with 
the  valleys  of  the  Neperan  and  the  Pocantico,  are  tenaciously 
held  by  the  lineal  descendants  of  the  Copperheads. 


THE  chronicle  of  the  venerable  Diedrich  here  goes  on  to  relate 
how  that,  shortly  after  the  above-mentioned  events,  the  whole 
province  of  the  New  Netherlands  was  subjugated  by  the 
British ;  how  that  Wolf ert  Acker,  one  of  the  wrangling  coun 
cillors  of  Peter  Stuyvesant,  retired  in  dudgeon  to  this  fastness 
in  the  wilderness,  determining  to  enjoy  "lust  in  rust"  for  the 
remainder  of  his  days,  whence  the  place  first  received  its  name 
of  Wolfert's  Roost.  As  these  and  sundry  other  matters  have 
been  laid  before  the  public  in  a  preceding  article,  I  shall  pass 
them  over,  and  resume  foe  chronicle  where  it  treats  of  matters 
not  hitherto  recorded: 

LIKE  many  men  who  retire  from  a  worrying  world,  says 
DIEDRICH  KNICKERBOCKER,  to  enjoy  quiet  in  the  country,  Wol- 
fert  Acker  soon  found  himself  up  to  the  ears  in  trouble.  He 
had  a  termagant  wife  at  home,  and  there  was  what  is  profanely 
called  "the  deuce  to  pay,"  abroad.  The  recent  irruption  of 
the  Yankees  into  the  bounds  of  the  New  Netherlands,  had  left 
behind  it  a  doleful  pestilence,  such  as  is  apt  to  follow  the  steps 
of  invading  armies.  This  was  the  deadly  plague  of  witchcraft, 
which  had  long  been  prevalent  to  the  eastward.  The  malady 
broke  out  at  Vest  Dorp,  and  threatened  to  spread  throughout 
the  country.  The  Dutch  burghers  along  the  Hudson,  from 
Yonkers  to  Sleepy  Hollow,  hastened  to  nail  horse-shoes  to  their 
doors,  which  have  ever  been  found  of  sovereign  virtue  to  repel 


A  CHRONICLE  OF  WOLFERTS  ROOST.  17 

this  awful  visitation.  This  is  the  origin  of  the  horse-shoes 
which  may  still  be  seen  nailed  to  the  doors  of  barns  and  farm 
houses,  in  various  parts  of  this  sage  and  sober-thoughted 
region. 

The  evil,  however,  bore  hard  upon  the  Roost;  partly,  per 
haps,  from  its  having  in  old  times  been  subject  to  supernatural 
influences,  during  the  sway  of  the  Wizard  Sachem;  but  it  has 
always,  in  fact,  been  considered  a  fated  mansion.  The  unlucky 
Yv'olfert  had  no  rest  day  nor  night.  When  the  weather  was 
quiet  all  over  the  country,  the  wind  would  howl  and  whistle 
round  his  roof ;  witches  would  ride  and  whirl  upon  his  weather 
cocks,  and  scream  down  his  chimneys.  His  cows  gave  bloody 
milk,  and  his  horses  broke  bounds,  and  scampered  into  the 
woods.  There  were  not  wanting  evil  tongues  to  whisper  that 
Woli'ert's  termagant  wife  had  some  tampering  with  the  enemy ; 
and  that  she  even  attended  a  witches'  Sabbath  in  Sleepy  Hol 
low  ;  nay,  a  neighbor,  who  lived  hard  by,  declared  that  he  saw 
her  harnessing  a  rampant  broom-stick,  and  about  to  ride  to  the 
meeting;  though  others  presume  it  was  merely  flourished  in 
the  course  of  one  of  her  curtain  lectures,  to  give  energy  and 
emphasis  to  a  period.  Certain  it  is,  that  Wolfert  Acker  nailed 
a  horse-shoe  to  the  front  door,  during  one  of  her  nocturnal 
excursions,  to  prevent  her  return;  but  as  she  re-entered  the 
house  without  any  difficulty,  it  is  probable  she  was  not  so 
much  of  a  witch  as  she  was  represented.* 

After  the  time  of  Wolfert  Acker,  a  long  interval  elapses, 
about  which  but  little  is  known.  It  is  hoped,  however,  that 
the  antiquarian  researches  so  diligently  making  in  every  part 


*  HISTORICAL  NOTE. — The  annexed  extracts  from  the  early  colonial  records,  re 
late  to  the  Irruption  of  witchcraft  into  Westchester  county,  as  mentioned  in  the 
chronicle: 

•'  JI:LY  7, 1670.— Katharine  Harryson,  accused  of  witchcraft  on  complaint  of  Tho- 
'.n.as  Hunt  and  Edward  Waters,  in  behalf  of  the  town,  who  pray  that  she  may  be 
driven  from  the  town  of  Westchester.  The  woman  appears  before  the  council. 
....  She  was  a  native  of  England,  and  had  lived  a  year  in  Weathersfleld,  Con 
necticut,  where  she  had  been  tried  for  witchcraft,  found  guilty  by  the  jury,  ac 
quitted  by  the  bench,  and  released  out  of  prison,  upon  condition  she  would  remove. 
Affair  adjourned. 

"  AUGUST  24.— Affair  taken  up  again,  when,  being  heard  at  large,  it  was  referred 
to  the  general  court  of  assize.  Woman  ordered  to  give  security  for  good  behavior," 
etc. 

In  another  place  is  the  following  entry : 

"  Order  given  for  Katharine  Harryson,  charged  with  witchcraft,  to  leave  Weet- 
chester,  as  the  inhabitants  are  uneasy  at  her  residing  there,  and  she  is  ordered  t« 

SCO  Off." 


18  WOLFERT'S  ROOST  AND  MISCELLANIES. 

of  this  new  country,  may  yet  throw  some  light  upon  what  may 
be  termed  the  Dark  Ages  of  the  Roost. 

The  next  period  at  which  we  find  this  venerable  and  eventful 
pile  rising  to  importance,  and  resuming  its  old  belligerent  char 
acter,  is  during  the  revolutionary  war.  It  was  at  that  time 
owned  by  Jacob  Van  Tassel,  or  Van  Texel,  as  the  name  was 
originally  spelled,  after  the  place  in  Holland  which  gave  birth 
to  this  heroic  line.  He  was  strong-built,  long-limbed,  and  as 
stout  in  soul  as  in  body ;  a  fit  successor  to  the  warrior  sachem 
of  yore,  and,  like  him,  delighting  in  extravagant  enterprises 
and  hardy  deeds  of  arms.  But,  before  I  enter  upon  the  ex 
ploits  of  this  worthy  cock  of  the  Roost,  it  is  fitting  I  should 
throw  some  light  upon  the  state  of  the  mansion,  and  of  the 
surrounding  country,  at  the  time. 

The  situation  of  the  Roost  is  in  the  very  heart  of  what  was 
the  debateable  ground  between  the  American  and  British  lines, 
during  the  war.  The  British  held  possession  of  the  city  of  New 
York,  and  the  island  of  Manhattan  on  which  it  stands.  The 
Americans  drew  up  toward  the  Highlands,  holding  their  head 
quarters  at  Peekskill.  The  intervening  country,  from  Croton 
River  to  Spiting  Devil  Creek,  was  the  debateable  land,  subject 
to  be  harried  by  friend  and  foe,  like  the  Scottish  borders  of 
yore.  It  is  a  rugged  country,  with  a  line  of  rocky  hills  extend 
ing  through  it,  like  a  back  bone,  sending  ribs  on  either  side ; 
but  among  these  rude  hills  are  beautiful  winding  valleys,  like 
those  watered  by  the  Pocantico  and  the  Neperan.  In  the  fast 
nesses  of  these  hills,  and  along  these  valleys,  exist  a  race  of 
hard-headed,  hard-handed,  stout-hearted  Dutchmen,  descend 
ants  of  the  primitive  Nederlanders.  Most  of  these  were  strong 
whigs  throughout  the  war,  and  have  ever  remained  obstinately 
attached  to  the  soil,  and  neither  to  be  fought  nor  bought  out  of 
their  paternal  acres.  Others  were  tones,  and  adherents  to  the 
'old  kingly  rule;  some  of  whom  took  refuge  within  the  British 
(lines,  joined  the  royal  bands  of  refugees,  a  name  odious  to  the 
American  ear,  and  occasionally  returned  to  harass  their  an 
cient  neighbors. 

In  a  little  while,  this  debateable  land  was  overrun  by  preda 
tory  bands  from  either  side;  sacking  hen-roosts,  plundering 
farm-houses,  and  driving  off  cattle.  Hence  arose  those  two 
great  orders  of  border  chivalry,  the  Skinners  and  the  Cow 
boys,  famous  in  the  heroic  annals  of  Westchestor  county.  The 
former  fought,  or  rather  marauded,  under  the  American,  the 
latter  under  the  British  banner}  but  both,  in  the  hurry  of  their 


A   CHRONICLE  OF  WOLFEET'S  BOOST.  19 

military  ardor,  were  apt  to  err  on  the  safe  side,  and  rob  friend 
as  well  as  foe.  Neither  of  them  stopped  to  ask  the  politics  of 
horse  or  cow,  which  they  drove  into  captivity  ;  nor,  when  they 
wrung  the  neck  of  a  rooster,  did  they  trouble  their  heads  to 
ascertain  whether  he  were  crowing  for  Congress  or  King 
George. 

While  this  marauding  system  prevailed  on  shore,  the  Great 
Tappan  Sea,  which  washes  this  belligerent  region,  was  domi 
neered  over  by  British  frigates  and  other  vessels  of  war,  an 
chored  here  and  there,  to  keep  an  eye  upon  the  river,  and 
maintain  a  communication  between  the  various  military  posts. 
Stout  galleys,  also,  armed  with  eighteen- pounders,  and  navi 
gated  with  sails  and  oars,  cruised  about  like  hawks,  ready  to 
pounce  upon  their  prey. 

All  these  were  eyed  with  bitter  hostility  by  the  Dutch  yeo 
manry  along  shore,  who  were  indignant  at  seeing  their  great 
Mediterranean  ploughed  by  hostile  prows ;  and  would  occasion- 
ally  throw  up  a  mud  breast- work  on  a  point  or  promontory, 
mount  an  old  iron  field-piece,  and  fire  away  at  the  enemy, 
though  the  greatest  harm  was  apt  to  happen  to  themselves 
from  the  bursting  of  their  ordnance ;  nay,  there  was  scare*  a 
Dutchman  along  the  river  that  would  hesitate  to  fire  with  his 
long  duck  gun  at  any  British  cruiser  that  came  within  reach, 
as  he  had  been  accustomed  to  fire  at  water-fowl. 

I  have  been  thus  particular  in  my  account  of  the  times  and 
neighborhood,  that  the  reader  might  the  more  readily  com 
prehend  the  surrounding  dangers  in  this  the  Heroic  Age  of  the 
Roost. 

It  was  commanded  at  the  time,  as  I  have  already  observed, 
by  the  stout  Jacob  Van  Tassel.  As  I  wish  to  be  extremely 
accurate  in  this  part  of  my  chronicle,  I  beg  that  this  Jacob 
Van  Tassel  of  the  Roost  may  not  be  confounded  with  another 
Jacob  Van  Tassel,  commonly  known  in  border  story  by  the 
name  of  "Clump-footed  Jake,  "a  noted  tory,  and  one  of  the 
refugee  band  of  Spiting  Devil.  On  the  contrary,  he  of  the 
Roost  was  a  patriot  of  the  first  water,  and,  if  we  may  take  his 
own  word  for  granted,  a  thorn  in  the  side  of  the  enemy.  As 
the  Roost,  from  its  lonely  situation  on  the  water's  edge,  might 
be  liable  to  attack,  he  took  measures  for  defence.  On  a  row 
of  hooks  above  his  fire-place,  reposed  his  great  piece  of  ord' 
nance,  ready  charged  and  primed  for  action.  This  was  a 
duck,  or  rather  goose-gun,  of  unparalleled  longitude,  with 
which  it  was  said  he  could  kill  a  wild  goose,  though  half-waj 


20  WOLFERT'S  ROOST  AND  MISCELLANIES. 

across  the  Tappan  Sea.  Indeed,  there  are  as  many  wonders 
told  of  this  renowned  gun,  as  of  the  enchanted  weapons  of  the 
heroes  of  classic  story. 

In  different  parts  of  the  stone  walls  of  his  mansion,  he  had 
made  loop-holes,  through  which  he  might  fire  upon  an  assail 
ant.  His  wife  was  stout-hearted  as  himself,  and  could  load  as 
fast  as  he  could  fire ;  and  then  he  had  an  ancient  and  redoubtable 
sister,  Nochie  Van  Wurmer,  a  match,  as  he  said,  for  the  stout 
est  man  in  the  country.  Thus  garrisoned,  the  little  Roost  was 
fit  to  stand  a  siege,  and  Jacob  Van  Tassel  was  the  man  to  defend 
it  to  the  last  charge  of  powder. 

He  was,  as  I  have  already  hinted,  of  pugnacious  propensities ; 
and,  not  content  with  being  a  patriot  at  home,  and  fighting  for 
the  security  of  his  own  fireside,  he  extended  his  thoughts 
abroad,  and  entered  into  a  confederacy  with  certain  of  the 
bold,  hard-riding  lads  of  Tarrytown,  Petticoat  Lane,  and  Sleepy 
Hollow,  who  formed  a  kind  of  Holy  Brotherhood,  scouring  the 
country  to  clear  it  of  Skinner  and  Cow-boy,  and  all  other  bor 
der  vermin.  The  Roost  was  one  of  their  rallying  points.  Did 
a  band  of  marauders  from  Manhattan  island  come  sweeping 
through  the  neighborhood,  and  driving  off  cattle,  the  stout 
Jacob  and  his  compeers  were  soon  clattering  at  their  heels,  and 
fortunate  did  the  rogues  esteem  themselves  if  they  could  but 
get  a  part  of  their  booty  across  the  lines,  or  escape  themselves 
without  a  rough  handling.  Should  the  mosstroopers  succeed 
in  passing  with  their  cavalgada,  with  thundering  tramp  and 
dusty  whirlwind,  across  Kingsbridge,  the  Holy  Brotherhood  of 
the  Roost  would  rein  up  at  that  perilous  pass,  and,  wheeling 
about,  would  indemnify  themselves  by  foraging  the  refugee 
region  of  Morrisania. 

When  at  home  at  the  Roost,  the  stout  Jacob  was  not  idle ; 
but  was  prone  to  carry  on  a  petty  warfare  of  his  own,  for  his 
private  recreation  and  refreshment.  Did  he  ever  chance  to 
espy,  from  his  look-out  place,  a  hostile  ship  or  galley  anchored 
or  becalmed  near  shore,  he  would  uike  down  his  long  goose-gun 
from  the  hooks  over  the  fire-place,  sally  out  alone,  and  lurk 
along  shore,  dodging  behind  rocks  and  trees,  and  watching  for 
hours  together,  like  a  veteran  mouser  intent  on  a  rat-hole.  So 
sure  as  a  boat  put  off  for  shore,  and  came  within  shot,  bang! 
went  the  great  goose-gun;  a  shower  of  slugs  and  buck-shot 
whistled  about  the  ears  of  the  enemy,  and  before  the  boat  could 
reach  the  shore,  Jacob  had  scuttled  up  some  woody  ravine,  and 
left  no  trace  behind. 


A   CHRONICLE  OF  WOLFERTS  ROOST.  21 

About  this  time,  the  Roost  experienced  a  vast  accession  of 
warlike  importance,  in  being  made  one  of  the  stations  of  the 
water-guard.  This  was  a  kind  of  aquatic  corps  of  observation, 
composed  of  long,  sharp,  canoe-shaped  boats,  technically  called 
whale-boats,  that  lay  lightly  on  the  water,  and  could  be  rowed 
with  great  rapidity.  They  were  manned  by  resolute  fellows, 
skilled  at  pulling  an  oar,  or  handling  a  musket.  These  lurked 
about  in  nooks  and  bays,  and  behind  those  long  promontories 
which  run  out  into  the  Tappan  Sea,  keeping  a  look-out,  to  give 
notice  of  the  approach  or  movements  of  hostile  ships.  They 
roved  about  in  pairs;  sometimes  at  night,  with  muffled  oars, 
gliding  like  spectres  about  frigates  and  guard-ships  riding  at 
anchor,  cutting  off  any  boats  that  made  for  shore,  and  keeping 
the  enemy  in  constant  uneasiness.  These  musquito-cruisers 
generally  kept  aloof  by  day,  so  that  their  harboring  places 
might  not  be  discovered,  but  would  pull  quietly  along,  under 
shadow  of  the  shore,  at  night,  to  take  up  their  quarters  at  the 
Boost.  Hither,  at  such  time,  would  also  repair  the  hard-riding 
lads  of  the  hills,  to  hold  secret  councils  of  war  with  the  "ocean 
chivalry;"  and  in  these  nocturnal  meetings  were  concerted 
many  of  those  daring  forays,  by  land  and  water,  that  resounded 
throughout  the  border. 


THE  chronicle  here  goes  on  to  recount  divers  wonderful 
stories  of  the  wars  of  the  Roost,  from  which  it  would  seem, 
that  this  little  warrior  nest  carried  the  terror  of  its  arms  into 
every  sea,  from  Spiting  Devil  Creek  to  Antony's  Nose ;  that  it 
even  bearded  the  stout  island  of  Manhattan,  invading  it  at 
night,  penetrating  to  its  centre,  and  burning  down  the  famous 
Delancey  house,  the  conflagration  of  which  makes  such  a  blaze 
in  revolutionary  history.  Nay  more,  in  their  extravagant  dar 
ing,  these  cocks  of  the  Roost  meditated  a  nocturnal  descent 
upon  New  York  itself,  to  swoop  upon  the  British  commanders, 
Howe  and  Clinton,  by  surprise,  bear  them  off  captive,  and  per 
haps  put  a  triumphant  close  to  the  war ! 

All  these  and  many  similar  exploits  are  recorded  by  the 
worthy  Diedrich,  with  his  usual  minuteness  and  enthusiasm, 
whenever  the  deeds  in  arms  of  his  kindred  Dutchmen  are  in 
question ;  but  though  most  of  these  warlike  stories  rest  upon 
the  best  of  all  authority,  that  of  the  warriors  themselves,  and 
though  many  of  them  are  still  current  among  the  revolutionary 
patriarchs  of  this  heroic  neighborhood,  yet  I  dare  not  expose 


22  TOLFERTS  ROOST  AND  MISCELLANIES. 

them  to  the  incredulity  of  a  tamer  and  loss  chivalric  age. 
Suffice  it  to  say,  the  frequent  gatherings  at  the  Roost,  and 
the  hardy  projects  set  on  foot  there,  at  length  drew  on  it  the 
fiery  indignation  of  the  enemy ;  and  this  was  quickened  by  the 
conduct  of  the  stout  Jacob  Van  Tassel ;  with  whose  valorous 
achievements  we  resume  the  course  of  the  chronicle. 


THIS  doughty  Dutchman,  continues  the  sage  DIEDRICII 
KNICKERBOCKER,  was  not  content  with  taking  a  share  in  all  the 
magnanimous  enterprises  concocted  at  the  Roost,  but  still  con 
tinued  his  petty  warfare  along  shore.  A  series  of  exploits  at 
length  raised  his  confidence  in  his  prowess  to  such  a  height, 
that  he  began  to  think  himself  and  his  goose-gun  a  match  for 
any  thing.  Unluckily,  in  the  course  of  one  of  his  prowlings, 
he  descried  a  British  transport  aground,  not  far  from  shore, 
with  her  stern  swung  toward  the  land,  within  point-blank  shot. 
The  temptation  was  too  great  to  be  resisted;  bang!  as  usual, 
went  the  great  goose-gun,  shivering  the  cabin  windows,  and 
driving  all  hands  forward.  Bang!  bang!  the  shots  were 
repeated.  The  reports  brought  several  sharp-shooters  of  the 
neighborhood  to  the  spot ;  before  the  transport  could  bring  a 
gun  to  bear,  or  land  a  boat,  to  take  revenge,  she  was  soundly 
peppered,  and  the  coast  evacuated.  This  was  the  last  of 
Jacob's  triumphs.  He  fared  like  some  heroic  spider,  that  has 
unwittingly  ensnared  a  hornet,  to  his  immortal  glory,  perhaps, 
but  to  the  utter  ruin  of  his  web. 

It  was  not  long  after  this,  during  the  absence  of  Jacob  Van 
Tassel  on  one  of  his  forays,  and  when  no  one  was  in  garrison 
but  his  stout-hearted  spouse,  his  redoubtable  sister,  Nochie  Van 
Wurmer,  and  a  strapping  negro  wench,  called  Dinah,  that  an 
armed  vessel  came  to  anchor  off  the  Roost,  and  a  boat  full  of 
men  pulled  to  shore.  The  garrison  flew  to  arms,  that  is  to  say, 
to  mops,  broom-sticks,  shovels,  tongs,  and  all  kinds  of  domestic 
weapons;  for,  unluckily,  the  great  piece  of  ordnance,  the 
goose-gun,  was  absent  with  its  owner.  Above  all,  a  vigorous 
defence  was  made  with  that  most  potent  of  female  weapons, 
the  tongue.  Never  did  invaded  hen-roost  make  a  more  vocifer 
ous  outcry.  It  was  all  in  vain.  The  house  was  sacked  and 
plundered,  fire  was  set  to  each  corner,  and  in  a  few  momenta 
its  blaze  shed  a  baleful  light  far  over  the  Tappan  Sea.  The 
invaders  then  pounced  upon  the  blooming  Laney  Van  Tassel,  the 
beauty  of  the  Roost,  and  endeavored  to  boor  her  off  to  the  boat. 


A   CHRONICLE  OF  WOLFERTS  ROOST.  23 

But  here  was  the  real  tug  of  war.  The  mother,  the  aunt,  and 
the  strapping  negro  wench,  all  flew  to  the  rescue.  The  struggle 
continue*!  down  to  the  very  water's  edge;  when  a  voice  from 
the  armed  vessel  at  anchor,  ordered  the  spoilers  to  let  go  their 
hold;  they  relinquished  their  prize,  jumped  into  their  boats, 
and  pulled  off,  and  the  heroine  of  the  Roost  escaped  with  a 
mere  rumpling  of  the  feathers. 


THE  fear  of  tiring  my  readers,  who  may  not  take  such  an 
interest  as  myself  in  these  heroic  themes,  induces  me  to  close 
here  my  extracts  from  this  precious  chronicle  of  the  venerable 
Diedrich.  Suffice  it  briefly  to  say,  that  shortly  after  the 
catastrophe  of  the  Roost,  Jacob  Van  Tassel,  hi  the  course 
of  one  of  his  forays,  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  British ;  was 
sent  prisoner  to  New  York,  and  was  detained  in  captivity  for 
the  greater  part  of  the  war.  In  the  mean  tune,  the  Roost 
remained  a  melancholy  ruin ;  its  stone  walls  and  brick  chim 
neys  alone  standing,  blackened  by  fire,  and  the  resort  of  bats 
and  owlets.  It  was  not  until  the  return  of  peace,  when  this 
belligerent  neighborhood  once  more  resumed  its  quiet  agricul 
tural  pursuits,  that  the  stout  Jacob  sought  the  scene  of  his  tri 
umphs  and  disasters-,  rebuilt  the  Roost,  and  reared  again  on 
high  its  glittering  weather-cocks. 

Does  any  one  want  further  particulars  of  the  fortunes  of 
this  e veil tf id  little  pile?  Let  him  go  to  the  fountain-head,  and 
drink  deep  of  historic  truth.  Reader!  the  stout  Jacob  Van 
Tassel  still  lives,  a  venerable,  gray-headed  patriarch  of  the  rev 
olution,  now  in  his  ninety-fifth  year!  He  sits  by  his  fireside, 
in  the  ancient  city  of  the  Manhattoes,  and  passes  the  long  win 
ter  evenings,  surrounded  by  his  children,  and  grand-children, 
and  great-grand-children,  all  listening  to  his  tales  of  the  border 
wars,  and  the  heroic  days  of  the  Roost.  His  great  goose-gun, 
too,  is  still  in  existence,  having  been  preserved  for  many 
years  in  a  hollow  tree,  and  passed  from  hand  to  hand  among 
the  Dutch  burghers,  as  a  precious  relique  of  the  revolution. 
It  is  now  actually  in  possession  of  a  contemporary  of  the  stout 
Jacob,  one  almost  las  equal  in  years,  who  treasures  it  up  at  his 
house  hi  the  Boworia  of  New- Amsterdam,  hard  by  the  ancient 
rural  retreat  of  iho  chivalric  Peter  Stuyvesant.  I  am  not 
without  hopes  of  one  day  seeing  this  formidable  piece  of 
ordinance  restored  to  its  proper  station  in  the  arsenal  of  the 
Roosi. 


24  WOLFERTS  ROOST  AND  MISCELLANIES. 

Before  closing  this  historic  document,  I  cannot  but  advert  to 
certain  notions  and  traditions  concerning  the  venerable  pile  in 
question.  Old-time  edifices  are  apt  to  gather  odd  fancies  and 
superstitions  about  them,  as  they  do  moss  and  weather-stains ; 
and  this  is  in  a  neighborhood  a  little  given  to  old-fashioned 
notions,  and  who  look  upon  the  Roost  as  somewhat  of  a  fated 
mansion.  A  lonely,  rambling,  down-hill  lane  leads  to  it,  over 
hung  with  trees,  with  a  wild  brook  dashing  along,  and  crossing 
and  re-crossing  it.  This  lane  I  found  some  of  the  good  people 
of  the  neighborhood  shy  of  treading  at  night ;  why,  I  could  not 
for  a  long  time  ascertain ;  until  I  learned  that  one  or  two  of  the 
rovers  of  the  Tappan  Sea,  shot  by  the  stout  Jacob  during  the 
war,  had  been  buried  hereabout,  in  unconsecrated  ground. 

Another  local  superstition  is  of  a  less  gloomy  kind,  and  one 
which  I  confess  I  am  somewhat  disposed  to  cherish.  The  Tap- 
pan  Sea,  in  front  of  the  Roost,  is  about  three  miles  wide,  bor 
dered  by  a  lofty  line  of  waving  and  rocky  hills.  Often,  in  the 
still  twilight  of  a  summer  evening,  when  the  sea  is  like  glass, 
with  the  opposite  hills  throwing  their  purple  shadows  hah* 
across  it,  a  low  sound  is  heard,  as  of  the  steady,  vigorous  pull 
of  oars,  far  out  in  the  middle  of  the  stream,  though  not  a  boat 
is  to  be  descried.  This  I  should  have  been  apt  to  ascribe  to 
some  boat  rowed  along  under  the  shadows  of  the  western 
shore,  for  sounds  are  conveyed  to  a  great  distance  by  water,  at 
such  quiet  hours,  and  I  can  distinctly  hear  the  baying  of  the 
watch-dogs  at  night,  from  the  farms  on  the  sides  of  the  opposite 
mountains.  The  ancient  traditionists  of  the  neighborhood, 
however,  religiously  ascribed  these  sounds  to  a  judgment  upon 
one  Rumbout  Van  Dam,  of  Spiting  Devil,  who  danced  and 
drank  late  one  Saturday  night,  at  a  Dutch  quilting  frolic,  at 
Kakiat,  and  set  off  alone  for  home  in  his  boat,  on  the  verge  of 
Sunday  morning ;  swearing  he  would  not  land  till  he  reached 
Spiting  Devil,  if  it  took  him  a  month  of  Sundays.  He  was 
never  seen  afterward,  but  is  often  heard  plying  his  oars  across 
the  Tappan  Sea,  a  Flying  Dutchman  on  a  small  scale,  suited  to 
the  size  of  his  cruising-ground ;  being  doomed  to  ply  between 
Kakiat  and  Spiting  Devil  till  the  day  of  judgment,  but  never 
to  reach  the  land. 

There  is  one  room  in  the  mansion  which  almost  overhangs 
the  river,  and  is  reputed  to  be  haunted  by  the  ghost  of  a 
young  lady  who  died  of  love  and  green  apples.  I  have  been 
awakened  at  night  by  the  sound  of  oars  and  the  tinkling  of 
guitars  beneath  the  window  j  and  seeing  a  boat  loitering  in  the 


SLEEPT  HOLLOW.  25 

moonlight,  have  "been  tempted  to  believe  it  the  Flying  Dutch 
man  of  Spiting  Devil,  and  to  try  whether  a  silver  bullet  might 
not  put  an  end  to  his  unhappy  cruisings ;  but,  happening  to 
recollect  that  there  was  a  living  young  lady  in  the  haunted 
room,  who  might  be  terrified  by  the  report  of  fire-arms,  I  have 
refrained  from  pulling  trigger. 

As  to  the  enchanted  fountain,  said  to  have  been  gifted  by  the 
wizard  sachem  with  supernatural  powers,  it  still  wells  up  at  the 
foot  of  the  bank,  on  the  margin  of  the  river,  and  goes  by  the 
name  of  the  Indian  spring;  but  I  have  my  doubts  as  to  its 
rejuvenating  powers,  for  though  I  have  drank  oft  and  copi 
ously  of  it,  I  cannot  boast  that  I  find  myself  growing  younger. 

GEOFFREY  CRAYON. 


SLEEPY  HOLLOW. 

BY  GEOFFREY  CRAYON,  GENT. 

HAVING  pitched  my  tent,  probably  for  the  remainder  of  my 
days,  in  the  neighborhood  of  Sleepy  Hollow,  I  am  tempted  to 
give  some  few  particulars  concerning  that  spell-bound  region ; 
especially  as  it  has  risen  to  historic  importance  under  the  pen 
of  my  revered  friend  and  master,  the  sage  historian  of  the  New 
Netherlands.  Beside,  I  find  the  very  existence  of  the  place  has 
been  held  in  question  by  many;  who,  judging  from  its  odd 
name  and  from  the  odd  stories  current  among  the  vulgar  con 
cerning  it,  have  rashly  deemed  the  whole  to  be  a  fanciful  crea 
tion,  like  the  Lubber  Land  of  mariners.  I  must  confess  there 
is  some  apparent  cause  for  doubt,  in  consequence  of  the  color 
ing  given  by  the  worthy  Diedrich  to  his  descriptions  of  the 
Hollow ;  who,  in  this  instance,  has  departed  a  little  from  his 
usually  sober  if  not  severe  style ;  beguiled,  very  probably,  by 
his  predilection  for  the  haunts  of  his  youth,  and  by  a  certain 
lurking  taint  of  romance  whenever  any  thing  connected  with 
the  Dutch  was  to  be  described.  I  shall  endeavor  to  make  up 
for  this  amiable  error  on  the  part  of  my  venerable  and  vener 
ated  friend  by  presenting  the  reader  with  a  more  precise  and 
statistical  account  of  the  Hollow ;  though  I  am  not  sure  that  I 
shall  not  be  prone  to  lapso  in  the  end  into  the  very  error  I  am 
speaking  of,  so  potent  is  the  witchery  of  the  theme. 

I  believe  it  was  the  very  peculiarity  of  its  name  and  the  idee 


26          WOLFERT'S  ROOST  AND  MISCELLANIES. 

of  something  mystic  and  dreamy  connected  with  it  that  first 
led  me  in  my  boyish  ramblings  into  Sleepy  Hollow.  The 
character  of  the  valley  seemed  to  answer  to  the  name  ;  the 
slumber  of  past  ages  apparently  reigned  over  it ;  it  had  not 
awakened  to  the  stir  of  improvement  which  had  put  all  the  rest 
of  the  world  in  a  bustle.  Here  reigned  good,  old  long-forgotten 
fashions;  the  men  were  in  home-spun  garbs,  evidently  the 
product  of  their  own  farms  and  the  manufacture  of  their  own 
wives ;  the  women  were  in  primitive  short  gowns  and  petticoats, 
with  the  venerable  sun-bonnets  of  Holland  origin.  The  lower 
part  of  the  valley  was  cut  up  into  small  farms,  each  consisting 
of  a  little  meadow  and  corn-field;  an  orchard  of  sprawling, 
gnarled  apple-trees,  and  a  garden,  where  the  rose,  the  marigold, 
and  the  hollyhock  were  permitted  to  skirt  the  domains  of  the 
capacious  cabbage,  the  aspiring  pea,  and  the  portly  pumpkin. 
Each  had  its  prolific  little  mansion  teeming  with  children ;  with 
an  old  hat  nailed  against  the  wall  for  the  housekeeping  wren; 
a  motherly  hen,  under  a  coop  on  the  grass-plot,  clucking  to 
keep  around  her  a  brood  of  vagrant  chickens ;  a  cool,  stone 
well,  with  the  moss-covered  bucket  suspended  to  the  long  bal 
ancing-pole,  according  to  the  antediluvian,  idea  of  hydraulics ; 
and  its  spinning-wheel  humming  "within  doors,  the  patriarchal 
music  of  home  manufacture. 

The  Hollow  at  that  time  was  inhabited  by  families  which 
had  existed  there  from  the  earliest  times,  and  which,  by  fre 
quent  intermarriage,  had  become  so  interwoven,  as  to  make  a 
kind  of  natural  commonwealth.  As  the  families  had  grown 
larger  the  farms  had  grown  smaller;  every  new  generation 
requiring  a  new  subdivision,  and  few  thinking  of  swarming 
from  the  native  hive.  In  this  way  that  happy  golden  mean 
had  been  produced,  so  much  extolled  by  the  poets,  in  which 
there  was  no  gold  and  very  little  silver.  One  thing  which 
doubtless  contributed  to  keep  up  this  amiable  mean  was  a 
general  repugnance  to  sordid  labor.  The  sage  inhabitants  of 
Sleepy  Hollow  had  read  in  their  Bible,  which  was  the  only 
book  they  studied,  that  labor  was  originally  inflicted  upon  man 
as  a  punishment  of  sin ;  they  regarded  it,  therefore,  with  pious 
abhorrence,  and  never  humiliated  themselves  to  it  but  in  cases 
of  extremity.  There  seemed,  in  fact,  to  be  a  league  and 
covenant  against  it  throughout  the  Hollow  as  against  a  common 
enemy.  Was  any  one  compelled  by  dire  necessity  to  repair 
his  house,  mend  his  fences,  build  a  barn,  or  get  in  a  harvest, 
he  considered  it  a  great  evil  that  entitled  him  to  call  in  the 


SLEEPY  HOLLOW.  27 

assistance  of  his  friends.  He  accordingly  proclaimed  a  '  bee,' 
or  rustic  gathering,  whereupon  all  his  neighbors  hurried  to  his 
ai  t  like  faithful  allies  ;  attacked  the  task  with  the  desperate 
energy  of  lazy  men  eager  to  overcome  a  job  ;  and,  when  it  was 
f/jcomplished,  fell  to  eating  and  drinking,  fiddling  and  danc- 
iag  for  very  joy  that  so  great  an  amount  of  labor  had  been  van 
quished  with  so  little  sweating  of  the  brow. 

Yet,  let  it  not  be  supposed  that  this  worthy  community  was 
v/ithout  its  periods  of  arduous  activity.  Let  but  a  flock  of 
wild  pigeons  fly  across  the  valley  and  all  Sleepy  Hollow  was 
wide  awake  in  an  instant.  The  pigeon  season  had  arrived ! 
Every  gun  and  net  was  forthwith  in  requisition.  The  flail  was 
thrown  down  on  the  barn  floor  ;  the  spade  rusted  in  the  garden  ; 
the  plough  stood  idle  in  the  furrow  ;  every  one  was  to  the  hill 
side  and  stubble-field  at  daybreak  to  shoot  or  entrap  the 
pigeons  in  their  periodical  migrations. 

So,  likewise,  let  but  the  word  be  given  that  the  shad  were 
ascending  the  Hudson,  and  the  worthies  of  the  Hollow  were  to 
be  seen  launched  in  boats  upon  the  river  setting  great  stakes, 
and  stretching  their  nets  like  gigantic  spider-webs  half  across 
the  stream  to  the  great  annoyance  of  navigators.  Such  are  the 
wise  provisions  of  Nature,  by  which  she  equalizes  rural  affairs. 
A  laggard  at  the  plough  is  often  extremely  industrious  with 
the  fowling-piece  and  fishing-net ;  and,  whenever  a  man  is  an 
indifferent  farmer,  he  is  apt  to  be  a  first-rate  sportsman.  For 
catching  shad  and  wild  pigeons  there  were  none  throughout 
the  country  tc>  compare  with  the  lads  of  Sleepy  Hollow. 

As  I  have  observed,  it  was  the  dreamy  nature  of  the  name 
that  first  beguiled  me  in  the  holiday  rovings  of  boyhood  into 
this  sequestered  region.  I  shunned,  however,  the  populous 
parts  of  the  Hollow,  and  sought  its  retired  haunts  far  in  the 
foldings  of  the  hills,  where  the  Pocantico  "  winds  its  wizard 
stream  "  sometimes  silently  and  darkly  through  solemn  wood 
lands  ;  sometimes  sparkling  between  grassy  borders  in  fresh, 
green  meadows  ;  sometimes  stealing  along  the  feet  of  rugged 
heights  under  the  balancing  sprays  of  beech  and  chestnut 
trees.  A  thousand  crystal  springs,  with  which  this  neighbor 
hood  abounds,  sent  down  from  the  hill-sides  their  whimpering 
rills,  as  if  to  pay  tribute  to  the  Pocantico.  In  this  stream  I 
first  essayed  my  unskilful  hand  at  angling.  I  loved  to  loiter 
along  it  with  rod  in  hand,  watching  my  float  as  it  whirled 
amid  the  eddies  or  drifted  into  dark  holes  under  twisted  roots 
sunken  logs,  where  the  largest  fish  are  apt  to  lurk.  I 


28  WOLFERTS  ROOS'f  AND  MISCELLANIES. 

delighted  to  follow  it  into  the  brown  recesses  of  the  woods ;  to 
throw  by  my  fishing-gear  and  sit  upon  rocks  beneath  towering 
oaks  and  clambering  grape-vines;  bathe  my  feet  in  the  cool 
current,  and  listen  to  the  summer  breeze  playing  among  the 
tree-tops.  My  boyish  fancy  clothed  all  nature  around  me  with 
ideal  charms,  and  peopled  it  with  the  fairy  beings  I  had  read 
pf  in  poetry  and  fable.  Here  it  was  I  gave  full  scope  to  my 
'incipient  habit  of  day-dreaming,  and  to  a  certain  propensity, 
to  weave  up  and  tint  sober  realities  with  my  own  whims  and 
imaginings,  which  has  sometimes  made  life  a  little  too  much 
like  an  Arabian  tale  to  me,  and  this  "working-day  world" 
rather  like  a  region  of  romance. 

The  great  gathering-place  of  Sleepy  Hollow  in  those  days  was 
the  church.  It  stood  outside  of  the  Hollow,  near  the  great 
highway,  on  a  green  bank  shaded  by  trees,  with  the  Pocantico 
sweeping  round  it  and  emptying  itself  into  a  spacious  mill- 
pond.  At  that  time  the  Sleepy  Hollow  church  was  the  only 
place  of  worship  for  a  wide  neighborhood.  It  was  a  venerable 
edifice,  partly  of  stone  and  partly  of  brick,  the  latter  having 
been  brought  from  Holland  in  the  early  days  of  the  province, 
before  the  arts  in  the  New  Netherlands  could  aspire  to  such  a 
fabrication.  On  a  stone  above  the  porch  were  inscribed  the 
names  of  the  founders,  Frederick  Filipsen,  a  mighty  patroon  of 
the  olden  time,  who  reigned  over  a  wide  extent  of  this  neigh 
borhood  and  held  his  seat  of  power  at  Yonkers ;  and  his  wife, 
Katrina  Van  Courtlandt,  of  the  no  less  potent  line  of  the  Van 
Courtlandts  of  Croton,  who  lorded  it  over  a  great  part  of  the 
Highlands. 

The  capacious  pulpit,  with  its  wide-spreading  sounding- 
board,  were  likewise  early  importations  from  Holland ;  as  also 
the  communion-table,  of  massive  form  and  curious  fabric. 
The  same  might  be  said  of  a  weather-cock  perched  on  top  of 
the  belfry,  and  which  was  considered  orthodox  in  all  windy 
matters,  until  a  small  pragmatical  rival  was  set  up  on  the  other 
end  of  the  church  above  the  chancel.  This  latter  bore,  and 
still  bears,  the  initials  of  Frederick  Filipsen,  and  assumed  great 
airs  in  consequence.  The  usual  contradiction  ensued  that 
always  exists  among  church  weather-cocks,  which  can  never 
be  brought  to  agree  as  to  the  point  from  which  the  wind  blows, 
having  doubtless  acquired,  from  their  position,  the  Christian 
propensity  to  schism  and  controversy. 

Behind  the  church,  and  sloping  up  a  gentle  acclivity,  was  its 
capacious  burying-ground,  in  which  slept  the  earliest  fathers 


SLEEPY  HOLLOW.  29 

of  this  rural  neighborhood.  Here  were  tombstones  of  the 
rudest  sculpture;  on  which  were  inscribed,  in  Dutch,  the 
names  and  virtues  of  many  of  the  first  settlers,  with  their 
portraitures  curiously  carved  in  similitude  of  cherubs.  Long 
rows  of  grave-stones,  side  by  side,  of  similar  names,  but  various 
dates,  showed  that  generation  after  generation  of  the  same 
families  had  followed  each  other  and  been  garnered  together  in 
this  last  gathering- place  of  kindred. 

Let  me  speak  of  this  quiet  grave-yard  with  all  due  rever 
ence,  for  I  owe  it  amends  for  the  heedlessness  of  my  boyish 
days.  I  blush  to  acknowledge  the  thoughtless  frolic  with 
which,  in  company  with  other  whipsters,  I  have  sported  within 
its  sacred  bounds  during  the  intervals  of  worship;  chasing 
butterflies,  plucking  wild  flowers,  or  vying  with  each  other 
who  could  leap  over  the  tallest  tomb-stones,  until  checked  by 
the  stern  voice  of  the  sexton. 

The  congregation  was,  in  those  days,  of  a  really  rural  char 
acter.  City  fashions  were  as  yet  unknown,  or  unregarded,  by 
the  country  people  of  the  neighborhood.  Steam-boats  had  not 
as  yet  confounded  town  with  country.  A  weekly  market-boat 
from  Tarrytown,  the  "Farmers'  Daughter,"  navigated  by  the 
worthy  Gabriel  Requa,  was  the  only  communication  between 
all  these  parts  and  the  metropolis.  A  rustic  belle  in  those  days 
considered  a  visit  to  the  city  in  much  the  same  light  as  one  of 
our  modern  fashionable  ladies  regards  a  visit  to  Europe;  an 
event  that  may  possibly  take  place  once  in  the  course  of  a  life 
time,  but  to  be  hoped  for,  rather  than  expected.  Hence  the 
array  of  the  congregation  was  chiefly  after  the  primitive  fash 
ions  existing  in  Sleepy  Hollow;  or  if,  by  chance,  there  was  a 
departure  from  the  Dutch  sun-bonnet,  or  the  apparition  of  a 
bright  gown  of  flowered  calico,  it  caused  quite  a  sensation 
throughout  the  church.  As  the  dominie  generally  preached 
by  the  hour,  a  bucket  of  water  was  providently  placed  on  a 
bench  near  the  door,  in  summer,  with  a  tin  cup  beside  it,  for 
the  solace  of  those  who  might  be  athirst,  either  from  the  heat 
of  the  weather,  or  the  drouth  of  the  sermon. 

Around  the  pulpit,  and  behind  the  communion-table,  sat  the 
elders  of  the  church,  reverend,  gray -headed,  leathern-visaged 
men,  whom  I  regarded  with  awe,  as  so  many  apostles.  They 
were  stern  in  their  sanctity,  kept  a  vigilant  eye  upon  my 
giggling  companions  and  myself,  and  shook  a  rebuking  finger 
at  any  boyish  device  to  relieve  the  tediousness  of  compulsory 
devotion.  Vain,  however,  were  all  their  efforts  at  vigilance. 


30  WOLFERT8  ROOST  AND  MISCELLANIES. 

Scarcely  had  the  preacher  held  forth  for  half  an  hour,  on  one 

of  his  interminable  sermons,  than  it  seemed  as  if  the  drowsy 

influence  of  Sleepy  Hollow  breathed  into  the  place ;  one  by  one 

the  congregation  sank  into    slumber;   the    sanctified    elders 

leaned  back  in  their  pews,  spreading  their  handkerchiefs  over 

their  faces,  as  if  to  keep  off  the  flies ;  while  the  locusts  in  the 

j  neighboring  trees  would  spin  out  their  sultry  summer  notes,  as 

!  if  in  imitation  of  the  sleep-provoking  tones  of  the  dominie. 

I  have  thus  endeavored  to  give  an  idea  of  Sleepy  Hollow  and 
its  church,  as  I  recollect  them  to  have  been  in  the  days  of  my 
boyhood.  It  was  in  my  stripling  days,  when  a  few  years  had 
passed  over  my  head,  that  I  revisited  them,  in  company  with 
the  venerable  Diedrich.  I  shall  never  forget  the  antiquarian 
reverence  with  which  that  sage  and  excellent  man  contem 
plated  the  church.  It  seemed  as  if  all  his  pious  enthusiasm  for 
the  ancient  Dutch  dynasty  swelled  within  his  bosom  at  the 
sight.  The  tears  stood  in  his  eyes,  as  he  regarded  the  pulpit 
and  the  communion-  table ;  even  the  very  bricks  that  had  come 
from  the  mother  countiy,  seemed  to  touch  a  filial  chord  within 
his  bosom.  He  almost  bowed  in  deference  to  the  stone  above 
the  porch,  containing  the  names  of  Frederick  Filipsen  and 
Katrina  Van  Courtlandt,  regarding  it  as  the  linking  together 
of  those  patronymic  names,  once  so  famous  along  the  banks  of 
the  Hudson;  or  rather  as  a  key-stone,  binding  that  mighty 
Dutch  family  connexion  of  yore,  one  foot  of  which  rested  on 
Yonkers,  and  the  other  on  the  Croton.  Nor  did  he  forbear 
to  notice  with  admiration,  the  windy  contest  which  had  been 
carried  on,  since  time  immemorial,  and  with  real  Dutch  per 
severance,  between  the  two  weather-cocks;  though  I  could 
easily  perceive  he  coincided  with  the  one  which  had  come  from 
Holland. 

Together  we  paced  the  ample  church-yard.  With  deep 
veneration  would  he  turn  down  the  weeds  and  brambles  that 
obscured  the  modest  brown  grave-stones,  half  sunk  in  earth,  on 
which  were  recorded,  in  Dutch,  the  names  of  the  patriarchs  of 
ancient  days,  the  Ackers,  the  Van  Tassels,  and  the  Van  Warts. 
As  we  sat  on  one  of  the  tomb-stones,  he  recounted  to  me  the 
exploits  of  many  of  these  worthies ;  and  my  heart  smote  me, 
when  I  heard  of  their  great  doings  in  days  of  yore,  to  think 
how  heedlessly  I  had  once  sported  over  their  graves. 

From  the  church,  the  venerable  Diedrich  proceeded  in  his 
researches  up  the  Hollow.  The  genius  of  the  place  seemed 
to  hail  its  future  historian.  All  nature  was  alive  with  gi-atula- 


SLEEPY  HOLLOW.  31 

tion.  The  quail  whittled  a  greeting  from  the  corn-field;  the 
robin  carolled  a  song  of  praise  from  the  orchard;  the  loqua 
cious  catbird  flew  from  bush  to  bush,  with  restless  wing,  pro 
claiming  his  approach  in  every  variety  of  note,  and  anon 
would  whisk  about,  and  perk  inquisitively  into  Ms  face,  as  if 
to  get  a  knowledge  of  his  physiognomy ;  the  wood-pecker,  also, 
tapped  a  tattoo  on  the  hollow  apple-tree,  and  then  peered 
knowingly  round  the  trunk,  to  see  how  the  great  Diedrich 
relished  his  salutation;  while  the  ground-squirrel  scampered 
along  the  fence,  and  occasionally  whisked  his  tail  over  his  head, 
by  way  of  a  huzza ! 

The  worthy  Diedrich  pursued  his  researches  in  the  valley 
with  characteristic  devotion ;  entering  familiarly  into  the  vari 
ous  cottages,  and  gossiping  with  the  simple  folk,  in  the  style 
of  their  own  simplicity.  I  confess  my  heart  yearned  with 
admiration,  to  see  so  great  a  man,  in  his  eager  quest  after 
knowledge,  humbly  demeaning  himself  to  curry  favor  with 
the  humblest ;  sitting  patiently  on  a  three-legged  stool,  patting 
the  children,  and  taking  a  purring  grimalkin  on  his  lap,  while 
he  conciliated  the  good-will  of  the  old  Dutch  housewife,  and 
drew  from  her  long  ghost  stories,  spun  out  to  the  humming 
accompaniment  of  her  wheel. 

His  greatest  treasure  of  historic  lore,  however,  was  dis 
co  veeed  in  an  old  goblin-looking  mill,  situated  among  rocks  and 
waterfalls,  with  clanking  wheels,  and  rushing  streams,  and  all 
kinds  of  uncouth  noises.  A  horse-shoe,  nailed  to  the  door  to 
keep  off  witches  and  evil  spirits,  showed  that  this  mill  was 
subject  to  awful  visitations.  As  we  approached  it,  an  old  negro 
thrust  his  head,  all  dabbled  with  flour,  out  of  a  hole  above 
the  water-wJieel,  and  grinned,  and  rolled  his  eyes,  and  looked 
like  the  very  hobgoblin  of  the  place.  The  illustrious  Diedrich 
fixed  upon  him,  at  once,  as  the  very  one  to  give  him  that  in 
valuable  kind  of  information  never  to  be  acquired  from  books. 
He  beckoned  him  from  his  nest,  sat  with  him  by  the  hour  on 
a  broken  mill-stone,  by  the  side  of  the  waterfall,  heedless  of 
the  noise  of  the  water,  and  the  clatter  of  the  mill ;  and  I  verily 
believe  it  was  to  his  conference  with  this  African  sage,  and  the 
precious  revelations  of  the  good  dame  of  the  spinning-wheel, 
that  we  are  indebted  for  the  surprising  though  true  history  of 
Ichabod  Crane  and  the  headless  horseman,  which  has  since 
astounded  and  edified  the  world. 

But  I  have  said  enough  of  the  good  old  times  of  my  youthful 
days ;  let  me  speak  of  the  Hollow  as  I  found  it,  after  an  ab 


32  WOLFERT8  ROOST  AND  MISCELLANIES. 

sence  of  many  years,  when  it  was  kindly  given  me  once  more 
to  revisit  the  haunts  of  my  boyhood.  It  was  a  genial  day,  as  I 
approached  that  fated  region.  The  warm  sunshine  was  tern 
pered  by  a  slight  haze,  so  as  to  give  a  dreamy  effect  to  the 
landscape.  Not  a  breath  of  air  shook  the  foliage.  The  broad 
Tappan  Sea  was  without  a  ripple,  and  the  sloops,  with  droop 
ing  sails,  slept  on  its  grassy  bosom.  Columns  of  smoke,  from 
burning  brush-wood,  rose  lazily  from  the  folds  of  the  hills,  on 
the  opposite  side  of  the  river,  and  slowly  expanded  in  mid-air. 
The  distant  lowing  of  a  cow,  or  the  noontide  crowing  of  a  cock, 
coming  faintly  to  the  ear,  seemed  to  illustrate,  rather  than  dis 
turb,  the  drowsy  quiet  of  the  scene. 

I  entered  the  hollow  with  a  beating  heart.  Contrary  to  my 
apprehensions,  I  found  it  but  little  changed.  The  march  of 
intellect,  which  had  made  such  rapid  strides  along  every  river 
and  highway,  had  not  yet,  apparently,  turned  down  into  this 
favored  valley.  Perhaps  the  wizard  spell  of  ancient  days 
still  reigned  over  the  place,  binding  up  the  faculties  of  the  in 
habitants  in  happy  contentment  with  things  as  they  had  been 
handed  down  to  them  from  yore.  There  were  the  same  little 
farms  and  farmhouses,  with  their  old  hats  for  the  housekeep 
ing  wren;  their  stone  wells,  moss-covered  buckets,  and  long 
balancing  poles.  There  were  the  same  little  rills,  whimpering 
down  to  pay  their  tributes  to  the  Pocantico ;  while  that  wizard 
stream  still  kept  on  its  course,  as  of  old,  through  solemn  wood 
lands  and  fresh  green  meadows :  nor  were  there  wanting  joy 
ous  holiday  boys  to  loiter  along  its  banks,  as  I  have  done ;  throw 
their  pin-hooks  in  the  stream,  or  launch  their  mimic  barks.  I 
watched  them  with  a  kind  of  melancholy  pleasure,  wondering 
whether  they  were  under  the  same  spell  of  the  fancy  that  once 
rendered  this  valley  a  fairy  land  to  me.  Alas!  alas!  to  me 
every  thing  now  stood  revealed  in  its  simple  reality.  The 
echoes  no  longer  answered  with  wizard  tongues;  the  dream  of 
youth  was  at  an  end ;  the  spell  of  Sleepy  Hollow  was  broken ! 

I  sought  the  ancient  church  on  the  following  Sunday.  There 
it  stood,  on  its  green  bank,  among  the  trees;  the  Pocantico 
swept  by  it  in  a  deep  dark  stream,  where  I  had  so  often 
angled ;  there  exanded  the  mill-pond,  as  of  old,  with  the  cows 
under  the  willows  on  its  margin,  knee-deep  in  water,  chewing 
the  cud,  and  lashing  the  flies  from  their  sides  with  their  tails. 
The  hand  of  improvement,  however,  had  been  busy  with  the 
venerable  pile.  The  pulpit,  fabricated  in  Holland,  had  been 
superseded  by  one  of  modern  construction,  and  the  front  of  tho 


SLEEPY  HOLLOW.  33 

semi-Gothic  edifice  was  decorated  by  a  semi-Grecian  portico. 
Fortunately,  the  two  weather-cocks  remained  undisturbed  on 
their  perches  at  each  end  of  the  church,  and  still  kept  up  a 
diametrical  opposition  to  each  other  on  all  points  of  windy  doc 
trine. 

On  entering  the  church  the  changes  of  time  continued  to  be 
apparent.  The  elders  round  the  pulpit  were  men  whom  I  had 
left  in  the  gamesome  frolic  of  their  youth,  but  who  had  suc 
ceeded  to  the  sanctity  of  station  of  which  they  once  had  stood 
so  much  in  awe.  What  most  struck  my  eye  was  the  change  in 
the  female  part  of  the  congregation.  Instead  of  the  primitive 
garbs  of  homespun  manufacture  and  antique  Dutch  fashion, 
I  beheld  French  sleeves,  French  capes,  and  French  collars,  and 
a  fearful-fluttering  of  French  ribbands. 

When  the  service  was  ended  I  sought  the  church-yard,  in 
which  I  had  sported  in  my  unthinking  days  of  boyhood. 
Several  of  the  modest  brown  stones,  on  which  were  recorded  in 
Dutch  the  names  and  virtues  of  the  patriarchs,  had  disap 
peared,  and  had  been  succeeded  by  others  of  white  marble, 
with  urns  and  wreaths,  and  scraps  of  English  tomb-stone 
poetry,  marking  the  intrusion  of  taste  and  literature  and  the 
English  language  in  this  once  unsophisticated  Dutch  neighbor 
hood. 

As  I  was  stumbling  about  among  these  silent  yet  eloquent  me 
morials  of  the  dead,  I  came  upon  names  familiar  to  me ;  of  those 
who  had  paid  the  debt  of  nature  during  the  long  interval  of  my 
absence.  Some,  I  remembered,  my  companions  in  boyhood, 
who  had  sported  with  me  on  the  very  sod  under  which  they 
were  now  mouldering ;  others  who  in  those  days  had  been  the 
flower  of  the  yeomanry,  figuring  in  Sunday  finery  on  the 
church  green;  others,  the  white-haired  elders  of  the  sanctu 
ary,  once  arrayed  in  awful  sanctity  around  the  pulpit,  and 
ever  ready  to  rebuke  the  ill-timed  mirth  of  the  wanton  strip 
ling  who,  now  a  man,  sobered  by  years  and  schooled  by 
vicissitudes,  looked  down  pensively  upon  their  graves.  "  Our 
fathers,"  thought  I,  "where  are  they! — and  the  prophets,  can 
they  live  for  ever !" 

1  was  disturbed  in  my  meditations  by  the  noise  of  a  troop  of 
idle  urchins,  who  came  gambolling  about  the  place  where  I  had 
so  often  gambolled.  They  were  checked,  as  I  and  my  play 
mates  had  often  been,  by  the  voice  of  the  sexton,  a  man  staid 
in  years  and  demeanor.  I  looked  wistfully  in  his  face ;  had 
I  met  him  any  where  else,  I  should  probably  have  passed  him. 


34  WOLFERT'S  ROOST  AND  MISCELLANIES. 

by  without  remark  ;  but  here  I  was  alive  to  the  traces  of  for« 
iner  times,  and  detected  in  the  demure  features  of  this  guar 
dian  of  the  sanctuary  the  lurking  lineaments  of  one  of  the  very 
playmates  I  have  alluded  to.  We  renewed  our  acquaintance. 
He  sat  down  beside  me,  on  one  of  the  tomb-stones  over  which 
we  had  leaped  in  our  juvenile  sports,  and  we  talked  together 
about  our  boyish  days,  and  held  edifying  discourse  on  the  in 
stability  of  all  sublunary  things,  as  instanced  in  the  scene  around 
us.  He  was  rich  in  historic  lore,  as  to  the  events  of  the  last 
thirty  years  and  the  circumference  of  thirty  miles,  and  from 
him  I  learned  the  appalling  revolution  that  was  taking  place 
throughout  the  neighborhood.  All  this  I  clearly  perceived  he 
attributed  to  the  boasted  march  of  intellect,  or  rather  to  the 
all-pervading  influence  of  steam.  He  bewailed  the  times  when 
the  only  communication  with  town  was  by  the  weekly  market- 
boat,  the  "  Farmer's  Daughter,"  which,  under  the  pilotage  of 
the  worthy  Gabriel  Requa,  braved  the  perils  of  the  Tappan  Sea. 
Alas!  Gabriel  and  the  "Farmer's  Daughter"  slept  in  peace. 
Two  steamboats  now  splashed  and  paddled  up  daily  to  the  little 
rural  port  of  Tarrytown.  The  spirit  of  speculation  and  improve 
ment  had  seized  even  upon  that  once  quiet  and  unambitious  lit 
tle  dorp.  The  whole  neighborhood  was  laid  out  into  town  lots. 
Instead  of  the  little  tavern  below  the  hill,  where  the  farmers 
used  to  loiter  on  market  days  and  indulge  in  cider  and  ginger 
bread,  an  ambitious  hotel,  with  cupola  and  verandas,  now 
crested  the  summit,  among  churches  built  in  the  Grecian  and 
Gothic  styles,  showing  the  great  increase  of  piety  and  polite 
taste  in  the  neighborhood.  As  to  Dutch  d/esses  and  sun  bon 
nets,  they  were  no  longer  tolerated,  or  even  thought  of  ;  not 
a  farmer's  daughter  but  now  went  to  town  for  the  fashions  ; 
nay,  a  city  milliner  had  recently  set  up  in  the  village,  who 
threatened  to  reform  the  heads  of  the  whole  neighborhood. 

I  had  heard  enough !  I  thanked  my  old  playmate  for  bis  in 
telligence,  and  departed  from  the  Sleepy  Hollow  church  with 
the  sad  conviction  that  I  had  beheld  the  last  linge rings  of  the 
good  old  Dutch  times  in  this  once  favored  region.  If  any 
thing  were  wanting  to  confirm  this  impression,  it  would  be  the 
intelligence  which  has  just  reached  me,  that  a  bank  is  about 
to  be  established  in  the  aspiring  little  port  just  mentioned. 
The  fate  of  the  neighborhood  is  therefore  sealed.  I  see  no 
hope  of  averting  it.  The  golden  mean  is  at  an  end.  The  coun 
try  is  suddenly  to  be  deluged  with  wealth.  The  late  simple 
farmers  are  to  become  bank  directors  and  drink  claret  and 


THE  BIRDS  OF  SPRING.  35 

champagne ;  and  their  wives  and  daughters  to  figure  in  French 
hats  and  feathers ;  for  French  wines  and  French  fashions  com 
monly  keep  pace  with  paper  money.  How  can  I  hope  that 
even  Sleepy  Hollow  can  escape  the  general  inundation?  In  a 
little  while,  I  fear  the  slumber  of  ages  will  be  at  end;  the 
strum  of  the  piano  will  succeed  to  the  hum  of  the  spinning- 
wheel;  the  trill  of  the  Italian  opera  to  the  nasal  quaver  ot 
Icliabod  Crane ;  and  the  antiquarian  visitor  to  the  Hollow,  in 
the  petulance  of  his  disappointment,  may  pronounce  all  that  I 
have  recorded  of  that  once  favored  region  a  fable. 

GEOFFREY  CRAYON. 


THE  BIEDS  OF  SPEING. 

BY  GEOFFREY  CRAYON,  GENT 

MY  quiet  residence  in  the  country,  aloof  from  fashion,  poli 
tics,  and  the  money  market,  leaves  me  rather  at  a  loss  for  im 
portant  occupation,  and  drives  me  to  the  study  of  nature,  and 
other  low  pursuits.  Having  few  neighbors,  also,  on  whom  to 
keep  a  watch,  and  exercise  my  habits  of  observation,  I  am  fain 
to  amuse  myself  with  prying  into  the  domestic  concerns  and 
peculiarities  of  the  animals  around  me ;  and,  during  the  present 
season,  have  derived  considerable  entertainment  from  certain 
sociable  little  birds,  almost  the  only  visitors  we  have,  during 
this  early  part  of  the  year. 

Those  who  have  passed  the  winter  in  the  country,  are  sensi 
ble  of  the  delightful  influences  that  accompany  the  earliest 
indications  of  spring;  and  of  these,  none  are  more  delightful 
than  the  first  notes  of  the  birds.  There  is  one  modest  little 
sad-colored  bird,  much  resembling  a  wren,  which  came  aboiit 
the  house  just  on  the  skirts  of  winter,  when  not  a  blade  of 
grass  was  to  be  seen,  and  when  a  few  prematurely  warm  days 
had  given  a  flattering  foretaste  of  soft  weather.  He  sang  early 
in  the  dawning,  long  before  sun- rise,  and  late  in  the  evening, 
just  before  the  closing  in  of  night,  his  matin  and  his  vesper 
hymns.  It  is  true,  he  sang  occasionally  throughout  the  day ; 
but  at  these  still  hours,  his  song  was  more  remarked.  He  sat 
on  a  leafless  tree,  just  before  the  window,  and  warbled  forth 
Ms  notes,  free  and  simple,  but  singularly  sweet,  with  some 
thing  of  a  plaintive  tone,  that  heightened  their  effect, 


36  WOLFERTS  ROOST  AND  MISCELLANIES. 

The  first  morning  that  he  was  heard,  was  a  joyous  one 
among  the  young  folks  of  my  household.  The  long,  death 
like  sleep  of  winter  was  at  an  end;  nature  was  once  more 
awakening;  they  now  promised  themselves  the  immediate  ap 
pearance  of  buds  and  blossoms.  I  was  reminded  of  the  tem 
pest-tossed  crew  of  Columbus,  when,  after  their  long  dubious 
voyage,  the  field  birds  came  singing  round  the  ship,  though 
still  far  at  sea,  rejoicing  them  with  the  belief  of  the  im 
mediate  proximity  of  land.  A  sharp  return  of  winter  almost 
silenced  my  little  songster,  and  dashed  the  hilarity  of  the 
household;  yet  still  he  poured  forth,  now  and  then,  a  few 
plaintive  notes,  between  the  frosty  pipings  of  the  breeze,  like 
gleams  of  sunshine  between  wintry  clouds. 

I  have  consulted  my  book  of  ornithology  in  vain,  to  find  out 
the  name  of  this  kindly  little  bird,  who  certainly  deserves 
honor  and  favor  far  beyond  his  modest  pretensions.  He  comes 
like  the  lowly  violet,  the  most  unpretending,  but  welcomest  of 
flowers,  breathing  the  sweet  promise  of  the  early  year. 

Another  of  our  feathered  visitors,  who  follows  close  upon 
the  steps  of  winter,  is  the  Pe-wit,  or  Pe-wee,  or  Phoebe-bird ; 
for  he  is  called  by  each  of  these  names,  from  a  fancied  re 
semblance  to  the  sound  of  his  monotonous  note.  He  is  a  so 
ciable  little  being,  and  seeks  the  habitation  of  man.  A  pair 
of  them  have  built  beneath  my  porch,  and  have  reared  several 
broods  there  for  two  years  past,  their  nest  being  never  dis 
turbed.  They  arrive  early  in  the  spring,  just  when  the  crocus 
and  the  snow-drop  begin  to  peep  forth.  Their  first  chirp 
spreads  gladness  through  the  nouse.  "  The  Phcebe-birds  have 
come !"  is  heard  on  all  sides ;  they  are  welcomed  back  like  mem 
bers  of  the  family,  and  speculations  are  made  upon  where  they 
have  been,  and  what  countries  they  have  seen  during  their 
long  absence.  Their  arrival  is  the  more  cheering,  as  it  is  pro 
nounced,  by  the  old  weather-wise  people  of  the  country,  the 
sure  sign  that  the  severe  frosts  are  at  an  end,  and  that  the 
gardener  may  resume  his  labors  with  confidence. 

About  this  time,  too,  arrives  the  blue-bird,  so  poetically  yet 
truly  described  by  Wilson.  His  appearance  gladdens  the 
whole  landscape.  You  hear  his  soft  warble  in  every  field.  He 
sociably  approaches  your  habitation,  and  takes  up  his  resi 
dence  in  >  our  vicinity.  But  why  should  I  attempt  to  describe 
him,  when  I  have  Wilson's  own  graphic  verses  to  place  him 
before  the  reader? 


THE  BIRDS  OF  SPRING.  37 

When  winter's  cold  tempests  and  snows  are  no  more, 

Green  meadows  and  brown  furrowed  fields  re-appearing: 
The  fishermen  hauling  their  shad  to  the  shore, 

And  cloud-cleaving  geese  to  the  lakes  are  a-steering ; 
When  first  the  lone  butterfly  flits  on  the  wing, 

When  red  glow  the  maples,  so  fresh  and  so  pleasing, 
O  then  comes  the  blue-bird,  the  herald  of  spring, 

And  hails  with  his  warbliugs  the  charms  of  the  season. 

The  loud-piping  frogs  make  the  marshes  to  ring; 

Then  warm  glows  the  sunshine,  and  warm  glows  the  weather* 
The  blue  woodland  flowers  just  beginning  to  spring, 

And  spice-wood  and  sassafras  budding  together; 
O  then  to  your  gardens,  ye  housewives,  repair, 

Your  walks  border  up,  sow  and  plant  at  your  leisure; 
The  blue-bird  will  chant  from  his  box  such  an  air, 

That  all  your  hard  toils  will  seem  truly  a  pleasure  1 

He  flits  through  the  orchard,  he  visits  each  tree, 

The  red  flowering  peach,  and  the  apple's  sweet  blossoms; 
He  snaps  up  destroyers,  wherever  they  be, 

And  seizes  the  caitiffs  that  lurk  in  their  bosoms; 
He  drags  the  vile  grub  from  the  corn  it  devours, 

The  worms  from  the  webs  where  they  riot  and  welter; 
His  song  and  his  services  freely  are  ours, 

And  all  that  he  asks  is,  in  summer  a  shelter. 

The  ploughman  is  pleased  when  he  gleams  in  his  train, 

Now  searching  the  furrows,  now  mounting  to  cheer  him; 
The  gard'ner  delights  in  his  sweet  simple  strain, 

And  leans  on  his  spade  to  survey  and  to  hear  him. 
The  slow  lingering  school-boys  forget  they'll  be  chid, 

While  gazing  intent,  as  he  warbles  before  them, 
In  mantle  of  sky-blue,  and  bosom  so  red, 

That  each  little  loiterer  seems  to  adore  him. 

The  happiest  bird  of  our  spring,  however,  and  one  that  rivals 
the  European  lark,  in  my  estimation,  is  the  Boblincon,  or 
Boblink,  as  he  is  commonly  called.  He  arrives  at  that  choice 
portion  of  our  year,  which,  in  this  latitude,  answers  to  the  de 
scription  of  the  month  of  May,  so  often  given  by  the  poets. 
With  us,  it  begins  about  the  middle  of  May,  and  lasts  until 
nearly  the  middle  of  June.  Earlier  than  this,  winter  is  apt  to 
return  on  its  traces,  and  to  blight  the  opening  beauties  of  the 
year ;  an  later  than  this,  begin  the  parching,  and  panting,  and 
dissolving  heats  of  summer.  But  in  this  genial  interval,  na 
ture  is  in  all  her  freshness  and  fragrance:  "  the  rains  are  over 
and  gone,  the  flowers  appear  upon  the  earth,  the  time  of  the 
singing  of  birds  is  come,  and  the  voice  of  the  turtle  is  heard  in 
the  land."  The  trees  are  now  in  their  fullest  foliage  and 
brightest  verdure;  the  woods  are  gay  with  the  clustered 
flowers  of  the  laurel ;  the  air  is  perfumed  by  the  sweet-briar 


38  WOLFERTS  ROOST  AND  MISCELLANIES. 

and  the  wild  rose;  the  meadows  are  enamelled  with  clover- 
blossoms  ;  while  the  young  apple,  the  peach,  and  the  plum,  be 
gin  to  swell,  and  the  cherry  to  glow,  among  the  green  leaves. 

This  is  the  chosen  season  of  revelry  of  the  Boblink.  He 
comes  amidst  the  pomp  and  fragrance  of  the  season;  his  life 
seems  all  sensibility  and  enjoyment,  all  song  and  sunshine. 
He  is  to  be  found  in  the  soft  bosoms  of  the  freshest  and  sweetest 
meadows;  and  is  most  in  song  when  the  clover  is  in  blossom. 
He  perches  on  the  topmost  twig  of  a  tree,  or  on  some  long  flaunt 
ing  weed,  and  as  he  rises  and  sinks  with  the  breeze,  pours  forth 
a  succession  of  rich  tinlding  notes ;  crowding  one  upon  another, 
like  the  outpouring  melody  of  the  skylark,  and  possessing  the 
same  rapturous  character.  Sometimes  he  pitches  from  the 
summit  of  a  tree,  begins  his  song  as  soon  as  he  gets  upon  the 
wing,  and  flutters  tremulously  down  to  the  earth,  as  if  over 
come  with  ecstasy  at  his  own  music.  Sometimes  he  is  in 
pursuit  of  his  paramour;  always  in  full  song,  as  if  he  would 
win  her  by  his  melody ;  and  always  with  the  same  appearance 
of  intoxication  and  delight. 

Of  all  the  birds  of  our  groves  and  meadows,  the  Boblink  was 
the  envy  of  my  boyhood.  He  crossed  my  path  in  the  sweetest 
weather,  and  the  sweetest  season  of  the  year,  when  all  nature 
called  to  the  fields,  and  the  rural  feeling  throbbed  in  every 
bosom ;  but  when  I,  luckless  urchin  1  was  doomed  to  be  mewed 
up,  during  the  livelong  day,  in  that  purgatory  of  boyhood,  a 
school-room.  It  seemed  as  if  the  little  varlet  mocked  at  me, 
as  he  flew  by  in  full  song,  and  sought  to  taunt  me  with  his 
happier  lot.  Oh,  how  I  envied  him !  No  lessons,  no  tasks,  no 
hateful  school;  nothing  but  holiday,  frolic,  green  fields,  and 
fine  weather.  Had  I  been  then  more  versed  in  poetry,  I  might 
have  addressed  him  in  the  words  of  Logan  to  the  cuckoo : 

Sweet  bird !  thy  bower  is  ever  green. 

Thy  sky  is  ever  clear; 
Thou  hast  no  sorrow  in  thy  note, 

No  winter  in  thy  year. 

Oh!  could  I  fly,  I'd  fly  with  thee; 

We'd  make,  on  joyful  wing, 
Our  annual  visit  round  the  globe, 

Companions  of  the  spring! 

Farther  observation  and  experience  have  given  me  a  different 
idea  of  this  little  feathered  voluptuary,  which  I  will  venture  to 
impart,  for  the  benefit  of  my  school-boy  readers,  who  may 
regard  him  with  the  same  unqualified  envy  and  admiration 
which  I  once  indulged.  I  have  shown  him  only  as  I  saw 


THE  BIRDS  OF  SPRING.  39 

at  first,  in  what  I  may  call  the  poetical  part  of  his  career,  when 
he  in  a  manner  devoted  himself  to  elegant  pursuits  and  enjoy 
ments,  and  was  a  bird  of  music,  and  song,  and  taste,  and 
sensibility,  and  refinement.  While  this  lasted,  he  was  sacred 
from  injury;  the  very  school-boy  would  not  fling  a  stone  at 
him,  and  the  merest  rustic  would  pause  to  listen  to  his  strain. 
But  mark  the  difference.  As  the  year  advances,  as  the  clover- 
blossoms  disappear,  and  the  spring  fades  into  summer,  his  notes 
cease  to  vibrate  on  the  ear.  He  gradually  gives  up  his  elegant 
tastes  and  habits,  doffs  his  poetical  and  professional  suit  of 
black,  assumes  a  russet  or  rather  dusty  garb,  and  enters  into 
the  gross  enjoyments  of  common,  vulgar  birds.  He  becomes  a 
oon-vivant,  a  mere  gourmand;  thinking  of  nothing  but  good 
cheer,  and  gormandizing  on  the  seeds  of  the  long  grasses  on 
which  he  lately  swung,  and  chaunted  so  musically.  He  begins 
to  think  there  is  nothing  like  "the  joys  of  the  table,"  if  I  may 
be  allowed  to  apply  that  convivial  phrase  to  his  indulgences. 
He  now  grows  discontented  with  plain,  every-day  fare,  and  sets 
out  on  a  gastronomical  tour,  in  search  of  foreign  luxuries.  He 
is  to  be  found  in  myriads  among  the  reeds  of  the  Delaware, 
banqueting  on  their  seeds ;  grows  corpulent  with  good  feeding, 
and  soon  acquires  the  unlucky  renown  of  the  ortolan.  Where- 
ever  he  goes,  pop !  pop !  pop !  the  rusty  firelocks  of  the  country 
are  cracking  on  every  side ;  he  sees  his  companions  falling  by 
thousands  around  him;  he  is  the  reed-bird,  the  much-sought- 
for  tit-bit  of  the  Pennsylvanian  epicure. 

Does  he  take  warning  and  reform?  Not  he!  He  wings  his 
flight  still  farther  south,  in  search  of  other  luxuries.  We  hear 
of  him  gorging  himself  in  the  rice  swamps ;  filling  himself  with 
rice  almost  to  bursting;  he  can  hardly  fly  for  corpulency. 
Last  stage  of  his  career,  we  hear  of  him  spitted  by  dozens,  and 
served  up  on  the  table  of  the  gourmand,  the  most  vaunted  of 
southern  dainties,  the  rice-bird  of  the  Carolinas. 

Such  is  the  story  of  the  once  musical  and  admired,  but  finally 
sensual  and  persecuted  Boblink.  It  contains  a  moral,  worthy 
the  attention  of  all  little  birds  and  little  boys ;  warning  them  to 
keep  to  those  refined  and  intellectual  pursuits,  which  raised 
him  to  so  high  a  pitch  of  popularity,  during  the  early  part  of 
his  career ;  but  to  eschew  all  tendency  to  that  gross  and  dissi 
pated  indulgence,  which  brought  this  mistaken  little  bird  to  an 
untimely  end. 

Which  is  all  at  present,  from  the  well-wisher  of  little  boys 

cl  little  birds,  GEOFFREY  CRAYON. 


40          WOLFERT'S  ROOST  AND  MISCELLANIES. 
KECOLLECTIONS  OF  THE  ALHAMBRA. 

BY  THE  AUTHOR  OF  THE  SKETCH-BOOK. 

DURING  a  summer's  residence  in  the  old  Moorish  palace  of  the 
Alhainbra,  of  which  I  have  already  given  numerous  anecdotes 
to  the  public,  I  used  to  pass  much  of  my  time  in  the  beautiful 
hall  of  the  Abencerrages,  beside  the  fountain  celebrated  in  the 
tragic  story  of  that  devoted  race.  Here  it  was,  that  thirty-six 
cavaliers  of  that  heroic  line  were  treacherously  sacrificed,  to 
appease  the  jealousy  or  allay  the  fears  of  a  tyrant.  The  foun 
tain  which  now  throws  up  its  sparkling  jet,  and  sheds  a  dewy 
freshness  around,  ran  red  with  the  noblest  blood  of  Granada, 
and  a  deep  stain  on  the  marble  pavement  is  still  pointed  out, 
by  the  cicerones  of  the  pile,  as  a  sanguinary  record  of  the 
massacre.  I  have  regarded  it  with  the  same  determined  faith 
with  which  I  have  regarded  the  traditional  stains  of  Rizzio's 
blood  on  the  floor  of  the  chamber  of  the  unfortunate  Mary,  at 
Holyrood.  I  thank  no  one  for  endeavoring  to  enlighten  my 
credulity,  on  such  points  of  popular  belief.  It  is  like  breaking 
up  the  shrine  of  the  pilgrim ;  it  is  robbing  a  poor  traveller  of 
half  the  reward  of  his  toils ;  for,  strip  travelling  of  its  historical 
illusions,  and  what  a  mere  fag  you  make  of  it  I 

For  my  part,  I  gave  myself  up,  during  my  sojourn  in  the 
Alhainbra,  to  all  the  romantic  and  fabulous  traditions  connected 
with  the  pile.  I  lived  in  the  midst  of  an  Arabian  tale,  and  shut 
my  eyes,  as  much  as  possible,  to  every  thing  that  called  me  back 
to  every-day  life ;  and  if  there  is  any  country  in  Europe  where 
one  can  do  so,  it  is  in  poor,  wild,  legendary,  proud-spirited, 
romantic  Spain ;  where  the  old  magnificent  barbaric  spirit  still 
contends  against  the  utilitarianism  of  modern  civilization. 

In  the  silent  and  deserted  halls  of  the  Alhambra ;  surrounded 
with  the  insignia  of  regal  sway,  and  the  still  vivid,  though 
dilapidated  traces  of  oriental  voluptuousness,  I  was  in  the 
strong-hold  of  Moorish  story,  and  every  thing  spoke  and 
breathed  of  the  glorious  days  of  Granada,  when  under  the 
dominion  of  the  crescent.  When  I  sat  in  the  hall  of  the  Aben 
cerrages,  I  suffered  my  mind  to  conjure  up  all  that  I  had  read 
of  that  illustrious  line.  In  the  proudest  days  of  Moslem  domi 
nation,  the  Abencerrages  were  the  soul  of  every  thing-  noble 
and  chivalrous.  The  veterans  of  the  family,  who  sat  in  the 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  THE  ALHAMBRA.  41 

royal  council,  were  the  foremost  to  devise  those  heroic  enter 
prises,  which  carried  dismay  into  the  territories  of  the  Chris- 
tians ;  and  what  the  sages  of  the  family  devised,  the  young 
men  of  the  name  were  the  foremost  to  execute.  In  ah"  services 
of  hazard ;  in  all  adventurous  forays,  and  hair-breadth  hazards ; 
the  Abencerrages  were  sure  to  win  the  brightest  laurels.  In 
those  noble  recreations,  too,  which  bear  so  close  an  affinity  to 
war ;  in  the  tilt  and  tourney,  the  riding  at  the  ring,  and  the 
daring  bull-fight ;  still  the  Abencerrages  carried  off  the  palm. 
None  could  equal  them  for  the  splendor  of  their  array,  the 
gallantry  of  their  devices;  for  their  noble  bearing,  and  .glorious 
horsemanship.  Their  open-handed  munificence  made  them 
the  idols  of  the  populace,  while  their  k>fty  magnanimity,  and 
perfect  faith,  gamed  them  golden  opinions  from  the  generous 
and  high-minded.  Never  were  they  known  to  decry  the  merits 
of  a  rival,  or  to  betray  the  confidings  of  a  friend;  and  the 
"  word  of  an  Abencerrage"  was  a  guarantee  that  never  admitted 
of  a  doubt. 

And  then  their  devotion  to  the  fair!  Never  did  Moorish 
beauty  consider  the  fame  of  her  charms  established,  until  she 
had  an  Abencerrage  for  a  lover;  and  never  did  an  Abencerrage 
prove  recreant  to  his  vows.  Lovely  Granada !  City  of  delights  1 
Who  ever  bore  the  favors  of  thy  dames  more  proudly  on  their 
casques,  or  championed  them  more  gallantly  in  the  chivalrous 
tilts  of  the  Vivarambla?  Or  who  ever  made  thy  moon-lit 
balconies,  thy  gardens  of  myrtles  and  roses,  of  oranges,  citrons, 
and  pomegranates,  respond  to  more  tender  serenades? 

I  speak  with  enthusiasm  on  this  theme ;  for  it  is  connected 
with  the  recollection  of  one  of  the  sweetest  evenings  and 
sweetest  scenes  that  ever  I  enjoyed  in  Spain.  One  of  the 
greatest  pleasures  of  the  Spaniards  is,  to  sit  in  the  beautiful 
summer  evenings,  and  listen  to  traditional  ballads,  and  tales 
about  the  wars  of  the  Moors  and  Christians,  and  the  "  buenas 
andanzas"  and  "grandes  hechos,"  the  "good  fortunes"  and 
"  great  exploits"  of  the  hardy  warriors  of  yore.  It  is  worthy 
of  remark,  also,  that  many  of  these  songs,  or  romances,  as  they 
are  called,  celebrate  the  prowess  and  magnanimity  in  war,  and 
the  tenderness  and  fidelity  in  love,  of  the  Moorish  cavaliers, 
once  their  most  formidable  and  hated  foes.  But  centuries  have 
elapsed,  to  extinguish  the  bigotry  of  the  zealot ;  and  the  once 
detested  warriors  of  Granada  are  now  held  up  by  Spanish 
poets,  as  the  mirrors  of  chivalric  virtue. 

Such  was  the  amusement  of  the  evening  in  question.    A 


42  WOLFERTS  ROOST  JLND  MISCELLANIES. 

number  of  us  were  seated  in  the  Hall  of  the  Abcncerrages, 
listening  to  one  of  the  most  gifted  and  fascinating  beings  that  I 
had  ever  met  with  in  my  wanderings.  She  was  young  and 
beautiful ;  and  light  and  ethereal ;  full  of  fire,  and  spirit,  and 
pure  enthusiasm.  She  wore  the  fanciful  Andalusian  dress; 
touched  the  guitar  with  speaking  eloquence ;  improvised  with 
wonderful  f acility ;  and,  as  she  became  excited  by  her  theme, 
or  by  the  rapt  attention  of  her  auditors,  would  pour  forth,  in 
the  richest  and  most  melodious  strains,  a  succession  of  couplets, 
full  of  striking  description,  or  stirring  narration,  and  composed, 
as  I  was  assured,  at  the  moment.  Most  of  these  were  suggested 
by  the  place,  and  related  to  the  ancient  glories  of  Granada, 
and  the  prowess  of  her  chivalry.  The  Abencerrages  were  her 
favorite  heroes ;  she  felt  a  woman's  admiration  of  their  gallant 
courtesy,  and  high-souled  honor ;  and  it  was  touching  and  in 
spiring  to  hear  the  praises  of  that  generous  but  devoted  race, 
chanted  hi  this  fated  hall  of  their  calamity,  by  the  lips  of 
Spanish  beauty. 

Among  the  subjects  of  which  she  treated,  was  a  tale  of  Mos 
lem  honor,  and  old-fashioned  Spanish  courtesy,  which  made  a 
strong  impression  on  me.  She  disclaimed  all  merit  of  inven 
tion,  however,  and  said  she  had  merely  dilated  into  verse  a 
popular  tradition;  and,  indeed,  I  have  since  found  the  main 
facts  inserted  at  the  end  of  Conde's  History  of  the  Domination 
of  the  Arabs,  and  the  story  itself  embodied  in  the  form  of  an 
episode  in  the  Diana  of  Montemayor.  From  these  sources  I 
have  drawn  it  forth,  and  endeavored  to  shape  it  according  to 
my  recollection  of  the  version  of  the  beautiful  minstrel ;  but, 
alas !  what  can  supply  the  want  of  that  voice,  that  look,  that 
form,  that  action,  which  gave  magical  effect  to  her  chant,  and 
held  every  one  rapt  in  breathless  admiration!  Should  this 
mere  travestie  of  her  inspired  numbers  ever  meet  her  eye,  in 
her  stately  abode  at  Granada,  may  it  meet  with  that  indul 
gence  which  belongs  to  her  benignant  nature.  Happy  should 
I  be,  if  it  could  awaken  in  her  bosom  one  kind  recollection  of 
the  lonely  stranger  and  sojourner,  for  whose  gratification  she 
did  not  think  it  beneath  her  to  exert  those  fascinating  powers 
which  were  the  delight  of  brilliant  circles ;  and  who  will  ever 
recall  with  enthusiasm  the  happy  evening  passed  in  listening 
to  her  strains,  in  the  moon-lit  halls  of  the  Alhambra. 

GEOFFREY  CRAYON. 


THE  ABENCERRAGB.  43 

THE  ABENCERRAGE. 

A  SPANISH  TALE. 

ON  the  summit  of  a  craggy  hill,  a  spur  of  the  mountains  of 
Ronda,  stands  the  castle  of  Allora,  now  a  mere  ruin,  infested 
by  bats  and  owlets,  but  in  old  times  one  of  the  strong  border 
holds  of  the  Christians,  to  keep  watch  upon  the  frontiers  of  the 
warlike  kingdom  of  Granada,  and  to  hold  the  Moors  in  check. 
It  was  a  post  always  confided  to  some  well-tried  commander ; 
and,  at  the  time  of  which  we  treat,  was  held  by  Rodrigo  de 
Narvaez,  a  veteran,  famed,  both  among  Moors  and  Christians, 
not  only  for  his  hardy  feats  of  arms,  but  also  for  that  magnani 
mous  courtesy  which  should  ever  be  entwined  with  the  sterner 
virtues  of  the  soldier. 

The  castle  of  Allora  was  a  mere  part  of  his  command ;  he  was 
Alcayde,  or  military  governor  of  Antiquera,  but  he  passed  most 
of  his  time  at  this  frontier  post,  because  its  situation  on  the 
borders  gave  more  frequent  opportunity  for  those  adventurous 
exploits  which  were  the  delight  of  the  Spanish  chivalry.  His 
garrison  consisted  of  fifty  chosen  cavaliers,  all  well  mounted 
and  well  appointed :  with  these  he  kept  vigilant  watch  upon 
the  Moslems;  patrolling  the  roads,  and  paths,  and  defiles  of 
the  mountains,  so  that  nothing  could  escape  his  eye ;  and  now 
and  then  signalizing  himself  by  some  dashing  foray  into  the 
very  Vega  of  Granada. 

On  a  fair  and  beautiful  night  in  summer,  when  the  freshness 
of  the  evening  breeze  had  tempered  the  heat  of  day,  the 
worthy  Alcayde  sallied  forth,  with  nine  of  his  cavaliers,  to 
patrol  the  neighborhood,  and  seek  adventures.  They  rode 
quietly  and  cautiously,  lest  they  should  be  overheard  by  Moor 
ish  scout  or  traveller ;  and  kept  along  ravines  and  hollow  ways, 
lest  they  should  be  betrayed  by  the  glittering  of  the  full  moon 
upon  their  armor.  Coming  to  where  the  road  divided,  the 
Alcayde  directed  five  of  his  cavaliers  to  take  one  of  the 
branches,  while  he,  with  the  remaining  four,  would  take  the 
other.  Should  either  party  be  in  danger,  the  blast  of  a  horn 
was  to  be  the  signal  to  bring  their  comrades  to  their  aid. 

The  party  of  five  had  not  proceeded  far,  when,  in  passing 
through  a  defile,  overhung  with  trees,  they  heard  the  voice  of 
a  man,  singing.  They  immediately  concealed  themselves  in 
a  grove,  on  the  brow  of  a  declivity,  up  which  the  stranger 


44  WOLFERT'S  ROOST  AND  MISCELLANIES. 

would  have  to  ascend.  The  moonlight,  which  left  the  grove  in 
deep  shadow,  lit  up  the  whole  person  of  the  wayfarer,  as  he 
advanced,  and  enabled  them  to  distinguish  his  dress  and  appear 
ance  with  perfect  accuracy.  He  was  a  Moorish  cavalier,  and 
his  noble  demeanor,  graceful  carriage,  and  splendid  attire 
showed  him  to  be  of  lofty  rank.  He  was  superbly  mounted,  on 
a  dapple-gray  steed,  of  powerful  frame,  and  generous  spirit, 
and  magnificently  caparisoned.  His  dress  was  a  marlota,  or 
tunic,  and  an  Albernoz  of  crimson  damask,  fringed  with  gold. 
His  Tunisian  turban,  of  many  folds,  was  of  silk  and  cotton, 
striped,  and  bordered  with  golden  fringe.  At  his  girdle  hung 
a  scimetar  of  Damascus  steel,  with  loops  and  tassels  of  silk  and 
gold.  On  his  left  arm  he  bore  an  ample  target,  and  his  right 
hand  grasped  a  long  double-pointed  lance.  Thus  equipped,  he 
sat  negligently  on  his  steed,  as  one  who  dreamed  of  no  danger, 
gazing  on  the  moon,  and  singing,  with  a  sweet  and  manly 
voice,  a  Moorish  love  ditty. 

Just  opposite  the  place  where  the  Spanish  cavaliers  were 
concealed,  was  a  small  fountain  in  the  rock,  beside  the  road, 
to  which  the  horse  turned  to  drink ;  the  rider  threw  the  reins 
on  his  neck,  and  continued  his  song. 

The  Spanish  cavaliers  conferred  together;  they  were  all  so 
pleased  with  the  gallant  and  gentle  appearance  of  the  Moor, 
that  they  resolved  not*to  harm,  but  to  capture  him,  which,  in 
his  negligent  mood,  promised  to  be  an  easy  task;  rushing, 
therefore,  from  their  concealment,  they  thought  to  surround 
and  seize  him.  Never  were  men  more  mistaken.  To  gather 
up  his  reins,  wheel  round  his  steed,  brace  his  buckler,  and 
couch  his  lance,  was  the  work  of  an  instant;  and  there  he  sat, 
fixed  like  a  castle  in  his  saddle,  beside  the  fountain. 

The  Christian  cavaliers  checked  their  steeds  and  recon 
noitred  him  warily,  loth  to  come  to  an  encounter,  which  must 
end  in  his  destruction. 

The  Moor  now  held  a  parley:  "If  you  be  true  knights,  "  said 
he,  'and  seek  for  honorable  fame,  come  on,  singly,  and  I  am 
ready  to  meet  each  in  succession ;  but  if  you  be  mere  lurkers 
of  the  road,  intent  on  spoil,  come  all  at  once,  and  do  your 
worst !" 

The  cavaliers  communed  for  a  moment  apart,  when  one,  ad 
vancing  singly,  exclaimed:  "Although  no  law  of  chivalry 
obliges  us  to  risk  the  loss  of  a  prize,  when  clearly  in  our  power, 
yet  we  willingly  grant,  as  a  courtesy,  what  we  might,  refuse  as 
aright.  Valiant  Moor!  defend  thyself!" 


THE  ABENCERRAOE.  45 

So  saying,  he  wheeled,  took  proper  distance,  couched  his 
lance,  and  putting  spurs  to  his  horse,  made  at  the  stranger. 
The  latter  met  him  in  mid  career,  transpierced  him  with  his 
iance,  and  threw  him  headlong  from  his  saddle.  A  second  and 
a  third  succeeded,  but  were  unhorsed  with  equal  facility,  and 
thrown  to  the  earth,  severely  wounded.  The  remaining  two, 
seeing  their  comrades  thus  roughly  treated,  forgot  all  compact 
of  courtesy,  and  charged  both  at  once  upon  the  Moor.  He 
parried  the  thrust  of  one,  but  was  wounded  by  the  other  in  the 
thigh,  and,  in  the  shock  and  confusion,  dropped  his  lance. 
Thus  disarmed,  and  closely  pressed,  he  pretended  to  fly,  and 
was  hotly  pursued.  Having  drawn  the  two  cavaliers  some  dis 
tance  from  the  spot,  he  suddenly  wheeled  short  about,  with  one 
of  those  dexterous  movements  for  which  the  Moorish  horse 
men  are  renowned ;  passed  swiftly  between  them,  swung  him 
self  down  from  his  saddle,  so  as  to  catch  up  his  lance,  then, 
lightly  replacing  himself,  turned  to  renew  the  combat. 

Seeing  him  thus  fresh  for  the  encounter,  as  if  just  issued 
from  his  tent,  one  of  the  cavaliers  put  his  lips  to  his  horn,  and 
blew  a  blast,  that  soon  brought  the  Alcayde  and  his  four  com 
panions  to  the  spot. 

The  valiant  Narvaez,  seeing  three  of  his  cavaliers  extended 
on  the  earth,  and  two  others  hotly  engaged  with  the  Moor, 
was  struck  with  admiration,  and  coveted  a  contest  with  so  ac 
complished  a  warrior.  Interfering  in  the  fight,  he  called  upon 
his  followers  to  desist,  and  addressing  the  Moor,  with  courteous 
words,  invited  him  to  a  more  equal  combat.  The  latter  readily 
accepted  the  challenge.  For  some  time,  their  contest  was 
fierce  and  doubtful,  and  the  Alcayde  had  need  of  all  his 
skill  and  strength  to  ward  off  the  blows  of  his  antagonist. 
The  Moor,  however,  was  exhausted  by  previous  fighting,  and 
by  loss  of  blood.  He  no  longer  sat  his  horse  firmly,  nor  man 
aged  him  with  his  wonted  skill.  Collecting  all  his  strength  for 
a  last  assault,  he  rose  in  his  stirrups,  and  made  a  violent  thrust 
with  his  lance ;  the  Alcayde  received  it  upon  his  shield,  and  at 
the  same  time  wounded  the  Moor  in  the  right  arm ;  then  clos 
ing,  in  the  shock,  he  grasped  him  in  his  arms,  dragged  him 
from  his  saddle,  and  fell  with  him  to  the  earth :  when  putting 
his  knee  upon  his  breast,  and  his  dagger  to  his  throat,  "  Cava 
lier,"  exclaimed  he,  "render  thyself  my  prisoner,  for  thy  life  is 
in  my  hands !" 

' '  Kill  me,  rather, "  replied  the  Moor,  ' '  for  death  would  be  less 
grievous  than  loss  of  liberty." 


46  WOLFEttlnS  ROOST  AND  MISCELLANIES. 

The  Alcayde,  however,  with  the  clemency  of  the  truly  brave, 
assisted  the  Moor  to  rise,  ministered  to  his  wounds  with  his 
own  hands,  and  had  him  conveyed  with  great  care  to  the  cas 
tle  of  Allora.  His  wounds  were  slight,  and  in  a  few  days  were 
nearly  cured ;  but  the  deepest  wound  had  been  inflicted  on  his 
spirit.  He  was  constantly  buried  in  a  profound  melancholy. 

The  Alcayde,  who  had  conceived  a  great  regard  for  him, 
treated  him  more  as  a  friend  than  a  captive,  and  tried  in  every 
way  to  cheer  him,  but  in  vain ;  he  was  always  sad  and  moody, 
and,  when  on  the  battlements  of  the  castle,  would  keep  his  eyes 
turned  to  the  south,  with  a  fixed  and  wistful  gaze. 

"How  is  this?"  exclaimed  the  Alcayde,  reproachfully,  "that 
you,  who  were  so  hardy  and  fearless  in  the  field,  should  lose  all 
spirit  in  prison?  If  any  secret  grief  preys  on  your  heart,  con 
fide  it  to  me,  as  to  a  friend,  and  1  promise  you,  on  the  faith  of 
a  cavalier,  that  you  shall  have  no  cause  to  repent  the  dis 
closure." 

The  Moorish  knight  kissed  the  hand  of  the  Alcayde.  "  Noble 
cavalier,"  said  he,  "  that  I  am  cast  down  in  spirit,  is  not  from 
my  wounds,  which  are  slight,  nor  from  my  captivity,  for  your 
kindness  has  robbed  it  of  all  gloom  ;  nor  from  my  defeat,  for  to 
be  conquered  by  so  accomplished  and  renowned  a  cavalier,  is 
no  disgrace.  But  to  explain  to  you  the  cause  of  my  grief,  it  is 
necessary  to  give  you  some  particulars  of  my  story  ;  and  this  I 
im  moved  to  do,  by  the  great  sympathy  you  have  manifested 
toward  me,  and  the  magnanimity  that  shines  through  all  your 
actions." 

"  Know,  then,  that  my  name  is  Abeudaraez,  and  that  I  am  of 
the  noble  but  unfortunate  line  of  the  Abencerrages  of  Granada. 
You  have  doubtless  heard  of  the  destruction  that  fell  upon  our 
race.  Charged  with  treasonable  designs,  of  which  they  were 
entirely  innocent,  many  of  them  were  beheaded,  the  rest  ban 
ished  ;  so  that  not  an  Abencerrage  was  permitted  to  remain  in 
Granada,  excepting  my  father  and  my  uncle,  whose  innocence 
was  proved,  even  to  the  satisfaction  of  their  persecutors.  It 
was  decreed,  however,  that,  should  they  have  children,  the 
sons  should  be  educated  at  a  distance  from  Granada,  and  the 
daughters  should  be  married  out  of  the  kingdom. 

"  Conformably  to  this  decree,  I  was  sent,  while  yet  an  infant, 
to  be  reared  in  the  fortress  of  Cartama,  the  worthy  Alcayde  of 
which  was  an  ancient  friend  of  my  father.  He  had  no  chil 
dren,  and  received  me  into  his  family  as  his  own  child,  treating 
me  with  the  kindness  and  affection  of  a  father ;  and  I  grew  up  in 


THE  ABBNCERRAGE.  47 

the  belief  that  he  really  was  such.  A  few  years  afterward,  his 
wife  gave  birth  to  a  daughter,  but  his  tenderness  toward  me  con 
tinued  undiminished.  I  thus  grew  up  with  Xarisa,  for  so  the 
infant  daughter  of  the  Alcayde  was  called,  as  her  own  brother, 
and  thought  the  growing  passion  which  I  felt  for  her,  was  mere 
fraternal  affection.  I  beheld  her  charms  unfolding,  as  it  were, 
leaf  by  leaf,  like  the  morning  rose,  each  moment  disclosing 
fresh  beauty  and  sweetness. 

"At  this  period,  I  overheard  a  conversation  between  the 
Alcayde  and  his  confidential  domestic,  and  found  myself  to  be 
the  subject.  '  It  is  time,'  said  he,  '  to  apprise  him  of  his  parent 
age,  that  he  may  adopt  a  career  in  life.  I  have  deferred  the 
communication  as  long  as  possible,  through  reluctance  to  inform 
him  that  he  is  of  a  proscribed  and  an  unlucky  race.' 

"  This  intelligence  would  have  overwhelmed  me  at  an  earlier 
period,  but  the  intimation  that  Xarisa  was  not  my  sister,  oper 
ated  like  magic,  and  in  an  instant  transformed  my  brotherly 
affection  into  ardent  love. 

"  I  sought  Xarisa,  to  impart  to  her  the  secret  I  had  learned. 
I  found  her  in  the  garden,  in  a  bower  of  jessamines,  arranging 
her  beautiful  hair  by  the  mirror  of  a  crystal  fountain.  The 
radiance  of  her  beauty  dazzled  me.  I  ran  to  her  with  open 
arms,  and  she  received  me  with  a  sister's  embraces.  When  we 
had  seated  ourselves  beside  the  fountain,  she  began  to  upbraid 
me  for  leaving  her  so  long  alone. 

"In  reply,  I  informed  her  of  the  conversation  I  had  over 
heard.  The  recital  shocked  and  distressed  her.  '  Alas ! '  cried 
she,  '  then  is  our  happiness  at  an  end ! ' 

"  '  How ! '  exclaimed  I ;  '  wilt  thou  cease  to  love  me,  because  I 
am  not  thy  brother? ' 

"  '  Not  so,'  replied  she ;  '  but  do  you  not  know  that  when  it  is 
once  known  we  are  not  brother  and  sister,  we  can  no  longer  be 
permitted  to  be  thus  always  together? ' 

"  In  fact,  from  that  moment  our  intercourse  took  a  new  char 
acter.  We  met  often  at  the  fountain  among  the  jessamines, 
but  Xarisa  no  longer  advanced  with  open  arms  to  meet  me. 
She. became  reserved  and  silent,  and  would  blush,  and  cast 
down  her  eyes,  when  I  seated  myself  beside  her.  My  heart 
became  a  prey  to  the  thousand  doubts  and  fears  that  ever 
attend  upon  true  love.  I  was  restless  and  uneasy,  and  looked 
back  with  regret  to  the  unreserved  intercourse  that  had  existed 
between  us,  when  we  supposed  ourselves  brother  and  sister; 
yet  I  would  not  have  had  the  relationship  true,  for  the  world. 


48  WOLFERTS  ROOST  AND  MISCELLANIES. 

"  While  matters  were  in  this  state  between  us,  an  order  came 
from  the  King  of  Granada  for  the  Alcayde  to  take  command  of 
the  fortress  of  Coyn,  which  lies  directly  on  the  Christian  fron 
tier.  He  prepared  to  remove,  with  all  his  family,  but  signified 
that  I  should  remain  at  Cartama.  I  exclaimed  against  the 
separation,  and  declared  that  I  could  not  be  parted  from 
Xarisa.  '  That  is  the  very  cause, '  said  he,  '  why  I  leave  thee 
behind.  It  is  time,  Abendaraez,  that  thou  shouldst  know  the 
secret  of  thy  birth ;  that  thou  art  no  son  of  mine,  neither  is 
Xarisa  thy  sister.'  '  I  know  it  all,'  exclaimed  I, '  and  I  love  her 
with  tenfold  the  affection  of  a  brother.  You  have  brought  us 
up  together;  you  have  made  us  necessary  to  each  other's  hap 
piness  ;  our  hearts  have  entwined  themselves  with  our  growth ; 
do  not  now  tear  them  asunder.  Fill  up  the  measure  of  your 
kindness ;  be  indeed  a  father  to  me,  by  giving  me  Xarisa  for 
my  wife.' 

"The  brow  of  the  Alcayde  darkened  as  I  spoke.  'Have  I 
then  been  deceived?'  said  he.  'Have  those  nurtured  in  my 
very  bosom  been  conspiring  against  me?  Is  this  your  return 
for  my  paternal  tenderness? — to  beguile  the  affections  of  my 
child,  and  teach  her  to  deceive  her  father?  It  was  cause  enough 
to  refuse  thee  the  hand  of  my  daughter,  that  thou  wert  of  a 
proscribed  race,  who  can  never  approach  the  walls  of  Granada ; 
this,  however,  I  might  have  passed  over ;  but  never  will  I  give 
my  daughter  to  a  man  who  has  endeavored  to  win  her  from  me 
by  deception.' 

' '  All  my  attempts  to  vidicate  myself  and  Xarisa  were  unavail 
ing.  I  retired  in  anguish  from  his  presence,  and  seeking 
Xarisa,  told  her  of  this  blow,  which  was  worse  than  death  to 
me.  '  Xarisa, '  said  I,  '  we  part  for  ever !  I  shall  never  see  thee 
more !  Thy  father  will  guard  thee  rigidly.  Thy  beauty  and  his 
wealth  will  soon  attract  some  happier  rival,  and  I  shall  be  for 
gotten  ! ' 

"  Xarisa  reproached  me  with  my  want  of  faith,  and  promised 
me  eternal  constancy.  I  still  doubted  and  desponded,  until, 
moved  by  my  anguish  and  despair,  she  agreed  to  a  secret 
union.  Our  espousals  made,  we  parted,  with  a  promise  on  her 
part  to  send  me  word  from  Coyn,  should  her  father  absent  him 
self  from  the  fortress.  The  very  day  after  our  secret  nuptials, 
I  beheld  the  whole  train  of  the  Alcayde  depart  from  Cartama, 
nor  would  he  admit  me  to  his  presence,  or  permit  me  to  bid 
farewell  to  Xarisa.  I  remained  at  Cartama,  somewhat  pacified 
in  spirit  by  this  secret  bond  of  union ;  but  every  thing  around 


THE  ABENCKREAOE.  49 

me  fed  my  passion,  and  reminded  me  of  Xarisa.  I  saw  the 
•windows  at  which  I  had  so  often  beheld  her.  I  wandered 
*V1-ough  the  apartment  she  had  inhabited;  the  chamber  in 
whl;  h  she  bad  slept.  I  visited  the  bower  of  jessamines,  and 
lingered  beside  the  fountain  in  which  she  had  delighted.  Every 
thing  recalled  her  to  my  imagination,  and  filled  my  heart  with 
tender  melancholy. 

"At  length,  a  confidential  servant  brought  me  word,  that  her 
father  was  to  depart  that  day  for  Granada,  on  a  short  absence, 
inviting  me  to  hasten  to  Coyn,  describing  a  secret  portal  at 
which  I  should  apply,  and  the  signal  by  which  I  would  obtain 
admittance. 

'If  ever  you  have  loved,  most  valiant  Alcayde,  you  may 
judge  of  the  transport  of  my  bosom.  That  very  night  I  arrayed 
myself  in  my  most  gallant  attire,  to  pay  due  honor  to  my  bride ; 
and  arming  myself  against  any  casual  attack,  issued  forth  pri 
vately  from  Cartama.  You  know  the  rest,  and  by  what  sad 
fortune  of  war  I  found  myself,  instead  of  a  happy  bridegroom, 
in  the  nuptial  bower  of  Coyn,  vanquished,  wounded,  and  a 
prisoner,  withing  the  walls  of  Allora.  The  term  of  absence  of 
the  father  of  Xarisa  is  nearly  expired.  Within  three  days  he 
will  return  to  Coyn,  and  our  meeting  will  no  longer  be  possible. 
Judge,  then,  whether  I  grieve  without  cause,  and  whether  I 
may  not  well  be  excused  for  showing  impatience  under  confine 
ment." 

Don  Rodrigo  de  Narvaez  was  greatly  moved  by  this  recital ; 
for,  though  more  used  to  rugged  war,  than  scenes  of  amorous 
softness,  he  was  of  a  kind  and  generous  nature. 

"  Abenderaez,"  said  he,  "I  did  not  seek  thy  confidence  to 
gratify  an  idle  curiosity.  It  grieves  me  much  that  the  good 
fortune  which  delivered  thee  into  my  hands,  should  have  marred 
so  fair  an  enterprise.  Give  me  thy  faith,  as  a  true  knight,  to 
,  return  prisoner  to  my  castle,  within  three  days,  and  I  will 
'grant  thee  permission  to  accomplish  thy  nuptials." 

The  Abencerrage  would  have  thrown  himself  at  his  feet,  to 
pour  out  protestations  of  eternal  gratitude,  but  the  Alcayde 
prevented  him.  Calling  in  his  cavaliers,  he  took  the  Abencer 
rage  by  the  right  hand,  in  their  presence,  exclaiming  solemnly, 
"  You  promise,  on  the  faith  of  a  cavalier,  to  return  to  my  castle 
of  Allora  within  three  days,  and  render  yourself  my  prisoner?" 
And  the  Abencerrage  said,  "I  promise." 

Then  said  the  Alcayde,  "Go!  and  may  good  fortune  attend 


50  WOLFERTS  ROOST  AXD  MISCELLANIES. 

you.  If  you  require  any  safeguard,  I  and  my  cavaliers  are 
ready  to  be  your  companions." 

The  Abencerrage  kissed  the  hand  of  the  Alcayde,  in  grateful 
acknowledgment.  "Give  me,"  said  he,  "my  own  armor, 
and  my  steed,  and  I  require  no  guard.  It  is  not  likely  that  I 
shall  again  meet  with  so  valorous  a  foe. " 

The  shades  of  night  had  fallen,  when  the  tramp  of  the  dapple- 
gray  steed  sounded  over  the  drawbridge,  and  immediately 
afterward  the  light  clatter  of  hoofs  along  the  road,  bespoke  the 
fleetness  with  which  the  youthful  lover  hastened  to  his  bride. 
It  was  deep  night  when  the  Moor  arrived  at  the  castle  of  Coyn. 
He  silently  and  cautiously  walked  his  panting  steed  under  its 
dark  walls,  and  having  nearly  passed  round  them,  came  to  the 
portal  denoted  by  Xarisa.  He  paused  and  looked  around  to 
see  that  he  was  not  observed,  and  then  knocked  three  times 
with  the  butt  of  his  lance.  In  a  little  while  the  portal  was 
timidly  unclosed  by  the  duenna  of  Xarisa.  "Alas!  senor," 
said  she,  "what  has  detained  you  thus  long?  Every  night  have 
I  watched  for  you ;  and  my  lady  is  sick  at  heart  with  doubt 
and  anxiety." 

The  Abencerrage  hung  his  lance,  and  shield,  and  scimitar 
against  the  wall,  and  then  followed  the  duenna,  with  silent 
steps,  up  a  winding  stair-case,  to  the  apartment  of  Xarisa. 
Vain  would  be  the  attempt  to  describe  the  raptures  of  that 
meeting.  Time  flew  too  swiftly,  and  the  Abencerrage  had 
nearly  forgotten,  until  too  late,  his  promise  to  return  a  prisoner 
to  the  Alcayde  of  Allora.  The  recollection  of  it  came  to  him 
with  a  pang,  and  suddenly  awoke  him  from  his  dream  of  bliss. 
Xarisa  saw  his  altered  looks,  and  heard  with  alarm  his  stifled 
sighs;  but  her  countenance  brightened,  when  she  heard  the 
cause.  "  Let  not  thy  spirit  be  cast  down,"  said  she,  throwing 
her  white  arms  around  him.  "  I  have  the  keys  of  my  father's 
joi'easures;  send  ransom  more  than  enough  to  satisfy  the  Chris 
tian,  and  remain  with  me." 

"No,"  said  Abendaraez,  "I  have  given  my  word  to  return  in 
person,  and  like  a  true  knight,  must  fulfil  my  promise.  After 
that,  fortune  must  do  with  me  as  it  pleases." 

"Then,"  said  Xarisa,  "I  will  accompany  thee.  Never  shall 
you  return  a  prisoner,  and  I  remain  at  liberty." 

The  Abencerrage  was  transported  with  joy  at  this  new  proof 
of  devotion  in  his  beautiful  bride.  All  preparations  were 
speedily  made  for  their  departure.  Xarisa  mounted  behind  the 
Moor,  on  his  powerful  steed ;  they  left  the  castle  walls  bef oro 


THE  ABENCERRAGE.  51 

daybreak,  nor  did  they  pause,  until  they  arrived  at  the  gate  of 
the  castle  of  AUora,  which  was  flung  wide  to  receive  them. 

Alighting  in  the  court,  the  Abencerrage  supported  the  steps  of 
his  trembling  bride,  who  remained  closely  veiled,  into  the  pres 
ence  of  Rodrigo  de  Narvaez.  ' '  Behold,  valiant  Alcayde  1"  said 
he,  "  the  way  in  which  an  Abencerrage  keeps  his  word.  I  pro 
mised  to  return  to  thee  a  prisoner,  but  I  deliver  two  captivea 
into  your  power.  Behold  Xarisa,  and  judge  whether  I  grieved 
without  reason,  over  the  loss  of  such  a  treasure.  Receive  ua 
as  your  own,  for  I  confide  my  Me  and  her  honor  to  youi 
hands." 

The  Alcayde  was  lost  in  admiration  of  the  beauty  of  the  lady, 
and  the  noble  spirit  of  the  Moor.  "I  know  not,"  said  he, 
"which  of  you  surpasses  the  other;  but  I  know  that  my  castle 
is  graced  and  honored  by  your  presence.  Enter  into  it,  and 
consider  it  your  own,  while  you  deign  to  reside  with  me." 

For  several  days  the  lovers  remained  at  Allora,  happy  in 
each  other's  love,  and  in  the  friendship  of  the  brave  Alcayde. 
The  latter  wrote  a  letter,  full  of  courtesy,  to  the  Moorish  king 
of  Granada,  relating  the  whole  event,  extolling  the  valor  and 
good  faith  of  the  Abencerrage,  and  craving  for  him  the  royal 
countenance. 

The  king  was  moved  by  the  story,  and  was  pleased  with  an 
opportunity  of  showing  attention  to  the  wishes  of  a  gallant  and 
chivalrous  enemy;  for  though  he  had  often  suffered  from  the 
prowess  of  Don  Rodigro  de  Narvaez,  he  admired  the  heroic 
character  he  had  gained  throughout  the  land.  Calling  the  Al 
cayde  of  Coyn  into  his  presence,  he  gave  him  the  letter  to  read. 
The  Alcayde  turned  pale,  and  trembled  with  rage,  on  the  perusal. 
"Restrain  thine  anger,"  said  the  king;  "there  is  nothing  thai 
the  Alcayde  of  Allora  could  ask,  that  I  would  not  grant,  if  in 
my  power.  Go  thou  to  Allora ;  pardon  thy  children ;  take  them 
to  thy  home.  I  receive  this  Abencerrage  into  my  favor,  and  it 
will  be  my  delight  to  heap  benefits  upon  you  all." 

The  kindling  ire  of  the  Alcayde  was  suddenly  appeased.  He 
hastened  to  Allora ;  and  folded  his  children  to  his  bosom,  who 
would  have  fallen  at  his  feet.  The  gallant  Rodrigo  de  Nar 
vaez  gave  liberty  to  his  prisoner  without  ransom,  demanding 
merely  a  promise  of  his  friendship.  He  accompanied  the  youth 
ful  couple  and  their  father  to  Coyn,  where  their  nuptials  were 
celebrated  with  great  rejoicings.  When  the  festivities  were 
over,  Don  Rodrigo  de  Narvaez  returned  to  his  fortress  of  Allora. 

After  his  departure,  the  Alcayde  of  Coyn  addressed  hie 


52  WOLFERTS  ROOST  AND  MISCELLANIES. 

children:  "To  your  hands,"  said  he,  "I  confide  the  disposi 
tion  of  my  wealth.  One  of  the  first  things  I  charge  you,  is  not 
to  forget  the  ransom  you  owe  to  the  Alcayde  of  Allora.  His 
magnanimity  you  can  never  repay,  but  you  can  prevent  it  from 
wronging  him  of  his  just  dues.  Give  him,  moreover,  your 
entire  friendship,  for  he  merits  it  fully,  though  of  a  different 
faith." 

The  Abencerrage  thanked  him  for  his  generous  proposition, 
which  so  truly  accorded  with  his  own  wishes.  He  took  a  largo 
sum  of  gold,  and  enclosed  it  in  a  rich  coffer ;  and,  on  his  own 
part,  sent  six  beautiful  horses,  superbly  caparisoned ;  with  six 
shields  and  lances,  mounted  and  embossed  with  gold.  The 
beautiful  Xarisa,  at  the  same  time,  wrote  a  letter  to  the 
Alcayde,  filled  with  expressions  of  gratitude  and  friendship,  and 
sent  him  a  box  of  fragrant  cypress-wood,  containing  linen,  of 
the  finest  quality,  for  his  person.  The  valiant  Alcayde  dis 
posed  of  the  present  in  a  characteristic  manner.  The  horses 
and  armor  he  shared  among  the  cavaliers  who  had  accompanied 
him  on  the  night  of  the  skirmish.  The  box  of  cypress-wood 
and  its  contents  he  retained,  for  the  sake  of  the  beautiful 
Xarisa;  and  sent  her,  by  the  hands  of  a  messenger,  the  sum  of 
gold  paid  as  a  ransom,  entreating  her  to  receive  it  as  a  .wedding 
present.  This  courtesy  and  magnanimity  raised  the  character 
of  the  Alcayde  Rodrigo  de  Narvacz  still  higher  in  the  estima 
tion  of  the  Moors,  who  extolled  him  as  a  perfect  mirror  of  clii- 
valric  virtue;  and  from  that  time  forward,  there  ^°°  a  con- 
*;nual  exchange  of  gx»od  offices  between  them. 


THE  ENCHANTED  ISLAND.  53 

THE  ENCHANTED  ISLAND. 

BY  THE  AUTHOR  OF  THE  SKETCH-BOOK. 

Break,  Phantsie,  from  thy  cave  of  cloud, 

And  wave  thy  purple  wings, 
Now  all  thy  figures  are  allowed, 
And  various  shapes  of  things. 
Create  of  airy  forms  a  stream ; 

It  must  have  blood  and  nought  of  phlegm; 
And  though  it  be  a  walking  dream, 
,       Yet  let  it  like  an  odor  rise 

To  all  the  senses  here, 
And  fall  like  sleep  upon  their  eyes, 

Or  music  on  their  ear. — BEN  JONSON. 

"THERE  are  more  things  in  heaven  and  earth  than  are 
dreamed  of  in  our  philosophy,"  and  among  these  may  be 
placed  that  marvel  and  mystery  of  the  seas,  the  island  of  St. 
Brandan.  Every  school-boy  can  enumerate  and  call  by  name 
the  Canaries,  tne  Fortunate  Islands  of  the  ancients;  which, 
according  to  some  ingenious  speculative  minds,  are  mere 
wrecks  and  remnants  of  the  vast  island  of  Atalantis,  men 
tioned  by  Plato,  as  having  been  swallowed  up  by  the  ocean. 
Whoever  has  read  the  history  of  those  isles,  will  remember 
the  wonders  told  of  another  island,  still  more  beautiful,  seen 
occasionally  from  their  shores,  stretching  away  in  the  clear 
bright  west,  with  long  shadowy  promontories,  and  high,  sun- 
gilt  peaks.  Numerous  expeditions,  both  in  ancient  and  modern 
days,  have  launched  forth  from  the  Canaries  in  quest  of  that 
island ;  but,  on  their  approach,  mountain  and  promontory  have 
gradually  faded  away,  until  nothing  has  remained  but  the  blue 
sky  above,  and  the  deep  blue  water  below.  Hence  it  was 
termed  by  the  geographers  of  old,  Aprositus,  or  the  Inaccessi 
ble  ;  while  modern  navigators  have  called  its  very  existence  in 
question,  pronouncing  it  a  mere  optical  illusion,  like  the  Fata 
Morgana  of  the  Straits  of  Messina;  or  classing  it  with  those 
unsubstantial  regions  known  to  mariners  as  Cape  Flyaway, 
and  the  Coast  of  Cloud  Land. 

Let  not,  however,  the  doubts  of  the  worldly-wise  sceptics  of 
modern  days  rob  us  of  all  the  glorious  realms  owned  by  happy 
credulity  in  days  of  yore.  Be  assured,  O  reader  of  easy  faith ! 
— thou  for  whom  I  delight  to  labor — be  assured,  that  such  =ra 
island  does  actually  exist,  and  has,  from  time  to  time,  been 


64          WOLFERT  '8  ROOST  AND  MISCELLANIES. 

revealed  to  the  gaze,  and  trodden  by  the  feet,  of  favored 
mortals.  Nay,  though  doubted  by  historians  and  philosophers, 
its  existence  is  fully  attested  by  the  poets,  who,  being  an  in 
spired  race,  and  gifted  with  a  kind  of  second  sight,  can  see 
into  the  mysteries  of  nature,  hidden  from  the  eyes  of  ordinary 
mortals.  To  this  gifted  race  it  has  ever  been  a  region  of  fancy 
and  romance,  teeming  with  all  kinds  of  wonders.  Here  once 
bloomed,  and  perhaps  still  blooms,  the  famous  garden  of  the 
Hesperides,  with  its  golden  fruit.  Here,  too,  was  the  enchanted 
garden  of  Armida,  in  which  that  sorceress  held  the  Christian 
paladin,  Rinaldo,  in  delicious  but  inglorious  thraldom  ;  as  is 
set  forth  in  the  immortal  lay  of  Tasso.  It  was  on  this  island, 
also,  that  Sycorax,  the  witch,  held  sway,  when  the  good  Pros- 
pero,  and  his  infant  daughter  Miranda,  were  wafted  to  its 
shores.  The  isle  was  then 

"  full  of  noises, 

Sounds,  and  sweet  airs,  that  give  delight,  and  hurt  not." 

Who  does  not  know  the  tale,  as  told  in  the  magic  page  of 
Shakspeare? 

In  fact,  the  island  appears  to  have  been,  at  different  times, 
under  the  sway  of  different  powers,  genii  of  earth,  and  air, 
and  ocean ;  who  made  it  their  shadowy  abode ;  or  rather,  it  is 
the  retiring  place  of  old  worn-out  deities  and  dynasties,  that 
once  ruled  the  poetic  world,  but  are  now  nearly  shorn  of  all 
their  attributes.  Here  Neptune  and  Amphitrite  hold  a  dimi 
nished  court,  like  sovereigns  in  exile.  Their  ocean-chariot 
lies  bottom  upward,  in  a  cave  of  the  island,  almost  a  perfect 
wreck,  while  their  pursy  Tritons  and  haggard  Nereids  bask 
listlessly,  like  seals  about  the  rocks.  Sometimes  they  assume 
a  shadow  of  their  ancient  pomp,  and  glide  in  state  about  the 
glassy  sea;  while  the  crew  of  some  tall  Indiaman,  that  lies 
becalmed  with  flapping  sails,  hear  with  astonishment  the 
mellow  note  of  the  Triton's  shell  swelling  upon  the  ear,  as  the 
invisible  pageant  sweeps  by.  Sometimes  the  quondam  mon 
arch  of  the  ocean  is  permitted  to  raake  himself  visible  to 
mortal  eyes,  visiting  the  ships  that  cross  the  line,  to  exact  a 
tribute  from  new-comers ;  the  only  remnant  of  his  ancient  rule, 
and  that,  alas!  performed  with  tattered  state,  and  tarnished 
splendor. 

On  the  shores  of  this  wondrous  island,  the  mighty  kraken 
heaves  his  bulk,  and  wallows  many  a  rood ;  here,  too,  the  sea- 
serpent  lies  coiled  up,  during  the  intervals  of  bis  much-con- 


THE  ENCHANTED  ISLAND.  55 

tested  revelations  to  the  eyes  of  true  believers ;  and  here,  it  is 
said,  even  the  Flying  Dutchman  finds  a  port,  and  casts  his 
anchor,  and  furls  his  shadowy  sail,  and  takes  a  short  repose 
from  his  eternal  wanderings. 

Here  all  the  treasures  lost  in  the  deep  are  safely  garnered. 
The  caverns  of  the  shores  are  piled  with  golden  ingots,  boxes 
of  pearls,  rich  bales  of  oriental  silks ;  and  their  deep  recesses 
sparkle  with  diamonds,  or  flame  with  carbuncles.  Here,  in 
deep  bays  and  harbors,  lies  many  a  spell-bound  ship,  long 
given  up  as  lost  by  the  ruined  merchant.  Here,  too,  its  crew, 
long  bewailed  as  swallowed  up  in  ocean,  He  sleeping  in  mossy 
grottoes,  from  age  to  age,  or  wander  about  enchanted  shores 
and  groves,  in  pleasing  oblivion  of  all  things. 

Such  are  some  of  the  marvels  related  of  this  island,  and 
which  may  serve  to  throw  some  light  on  the  following  legend, 
of  unquestionable  truth,  which  I  recommend  to  the  entire 
belief  of  the  reader. 


THE  ADELANTADO  OF  THE  SEVEN  CITIES. 
A  LEGEND  OF  ST.   BRANDAN. 

In  the  early  part  of  the  fifteenth  century,  when  Prince 
Henry  of  Portugal,  of  worthy  memory,  was  pushing  the  career 
of  discovery  along  the  western  coast  of  Africa,  and  the  world 
was  resounding  with  reports  of  golden  regions  on  the  main 
land,  and  new-found  islands  in  the  ocean,  there  arrived  at 
Lisbon  an  old  bewildered  pilot  of  the  seas,  who  had  been 
driven  by  tempests,  he  knew  not  whither,  and  who  raved 
about  an  island  far  in  the  deep,  on  which  he  had  landed,  and 
which  he  had  found  peopled  with  Christians,  and  adorned  with 
noble  cities. 

The  inhabitants,  he  said,  gathered  round,  and  regarded  him 
with  surprise,  having  never  before  been  visited  by  a  ship. 
They  told  him  they  were  descendants  of  a  band  of  Christians, 
who  fled  from  Spain  when  that  country  was  conquered  by  the 
Moslems.  They  were  curious  about  the  state  of  their  father 
land,  and  grieved  to  hear  that  the  Moslems  still  held  possession 
of  the  kingdom  of  Granada.  They  would  have  taken  the  old 
navigator  to  church,  to  convince  him  of  their  orthodoxy;  but, 
either  through  lack  of  devotion,  or  lack  of  faith  in  their  words, 
he  declined  their  invitation,  and  preferred  to  return  on  board 
of  his  ship.  He  was  properiv  punished.  A  furious  storm 


56  WOLFERTS  ROOST  A3D  MISCELLANIES. 

arose,  drove  him  from  his  anchorage,  hurried  him  out  to  sea, 
and  he  saw  no  more  of  the  unknown  island. 

This  strange  story  caused  great  marvel  in  Lisbon  and  else 
where.  Those  versed  in  history,  remembered  to  have  read,  in 
an  ancient  chronicle,  that,  at  the  time  of  the  conquest  of  Spain, 
in  the  eighth  century,  when  the  blessed  cross  was  cast  down, 
and  the  crescent  erected  in  its  place,  and  when  Christian 
churches  were  turned  into  Moslem  mosques,  seven  bishops,  at 
the  head  of  seven  bands  of  pious  exiles,  had  fled  from  the 
peninsula,  and  embarked  in  quest  of  some  ocean  island,  or  dis 
tant  land,  where  they  might  found  seven  Christian  cities,  and 
enjoy  their  faith  unmolested. 

The  fate  of  these  pious  saints  errant  had  hitherto  remained  a 
mystery,  and  their  story  had  faded  from  memory ;  the  report 
of  the  old  tempest-tossed  pilot,  however,  revived  this  long-for 
gotten  theme ;  and  it  was  determined  by  the  pious  and  enthusi 
astic,  that  the  island  thus  accidentally  discovered,  was  the 
identical  place  of  refuge,  whither  the  wandering  bishops  had 
been  guided  by  a  protecting  Providence,  and  where  they  had 
folded  their  flocks. 

This  most  excitable  of  worlds  has  always  some  darling  object 
of  chimerical  enterprise:  the  "Island  of  the  Seven  Cities"  now 
awakened  as  much  interest  and  longing  among  zealous  Chris 
tians,  as  has  the  renowned  city  of  Timbuctoo  among  adven 
turous  travellers,  or  the  North-east  Passage  among  hardy 
navigators ;  and  it  was  a  frequent  prayer  of  the  devout,  that 
these  scattered  and  lost  portions  of  the  Christian  family  might 
be  discovered,  and  reunited  to  the  great  body  of  Christendom. 

No  one,  however,  entered  into  the  matter  with  half  the  zeal 
of  Don  Fernando  de  Ulmo,  a  young  cavalier  of  high  standing 
in  the  Portuguese  court,  and  of  most  sanguine  and  romantic 
temperament.  He  had  recently  come  to  his  estate,  and  had 
run  the  round  of  all  kinds  of  pleasures  and  excitements,  when 
this  new  theme  of  popular  talk  and  wonder  presented  itself. 
The  Island  of  the  Seven  Cities  became  now  the  constant  sub 
ject  of  his  thoughts  by  day  and  his  dreams  by  night ;  it  even 
rivalled  his  passion  for  a  beautiful  girl,  one  of  the  greatest 
belles  of  Lisbon,  to  whom  he  was  betrothed.  At  length  his 
imagination  became  so  inflamed  on  the  subject,  that  he  deter 
mined  to  fit  out  an  expedition,  at  his  own  expense,  and  set  sail 
in  quest  of  this  sainted  island.  It  could  not  be  a  cruise  of  any 
great  extent;  for  according  to  the  calculations  of  the  tempest- 
tossed  pilot,  it  must  be  somewhere  in  the  latitude  of  the  Cana- 


THE  ENCHANTED  ISLAND.  57 

ries  which  at  that  time,  when  the  new  world  was  as  yet 
undiscovered,  formed  the  frontier  of  ocean  enterprise.  Don 
Fernando  applied  to  the  crown  for  countenance  and  protection. 
As  he  was  a  favorite  at  court,  the  usual  patronage  was  readily 
extended  to  him ;  that  is  to  say,  he  received  a  commission  from 
the  king,  Don  loam  II. ,  constituting  him  Adelantado,  or  mili 
tary  governor,  of  any  country  he  might  discover,  with  the 
single  proviso,  that  he  should  bear  all  the  expenses  of  the  dis 
covery  and  pay  a  tenth  of  the  profits  to  the  crown. 

Don  Fernando  now  set  to  work  in  the  true  spirit  of  a  projec 
tor.  He  sold  acre  after  acre  of  solid  land,  and  invested  the 
proceeds  in  ships,  guns,  ammunition,  and  sea-stores.  Even  his 
old  family  mansion  in  Lisbon  was  mortgaged  without  scruple, 
for  he  looked  forward  to  a  palace  in  one  of  the  Seven  Cities  of 
which  he  was  to  be  Adelantado.  This  was  the  age  of  nautical 
romance,  when  the  thoughts  of  all  speculative  dreamers  were 
turned  to  the  ocean.  The  scheme  of  Don  Fernando,  therefore, 
drew  adventurers  of  every  kind.  The  merchant  promised 
himself  new  marts  of  opulent  traffic ;  the  soldier  hoped  to  sack 
and  plunder  some  one  or  other  of  those  Seven  Cities ;  even  the 
fat  monk  shook  off  the  sleep  and  sloth  of  the  cloister,  to  join  in 
a  crusade  which  promised  such  increase  to  the  possessions  of 
the  church. 

One  person  alone  regarded  the  whole  project  with  sovereign 
contempt  and  growling  hostility.  This  was  Don  Ramiro  Al 
varez,  the  father  of  the  beautiful  Serafina,  to  whom  Don  Fer 
nando  was  betrothed.  He  was  one  of  those  perverse,  matter- 
of-fact  old  men  who  are  prone  to  oppose  every  thing  speculative 
and  romantic.  He  had  no  faith  in  the  Island  of  the  Seven 
Cities ;  regarded  the  projected  cruise  as  a  crack-brained  freak ; 
looked  with  angry  eye  and  internal  heart-burning  on  the  con 
duct  of  his  intended  son-in-law,  chaffering  away  solid  lands  for 
lands  in  the  moon,  and  scoffingly  dubbed  him  Adelantado  -  i 
Lubberland.  In  fact,  he  had  never  really  relished  the  intended 
match,  to  which  his  consent  had  been  slowly  extorted  by  the 
tears  and  entreaties  of  his  daughter.  It  is  true  he  could  have 
no  reasonable  objections  to  the  youth,  for  Don  Fernando  was 
the  very  flower  of  Portuguese  chivalry.  No  one  could  excel 
him  at  the  tilting  match,  or  the  riding  at  the  ring ;  none  was 
more  bold  and  dexterous  in  the  bull-fight ;  none  composed  more 
gallant  madrigals  in  praise  of  his  lady's  charms,  or  sang  them 
with  sweeter  tones  to  the  accompaniment  of  her  guitar ;  nor 
could  any  one  handle  the  castanets  and  dance  the  bolero  with 


68         woLFEsra  ROOST  AXD  MISCELLANIES. 

more  captivating  grace.  All  these  admirable  qualities  and 
endowments,  however,  though  they  had  been  sufficient  to  win 
the  heart  of  Serafina,  were  nothing  in  the  eyes  of  her  unreason 
able  father.  O  Cupid,  god  of  Love !  why  will  fathers  always 
be  so  unreasonable ! 

The  engagement  to  Serafina  had  threatened  at  first  to  throw 
an  obstacle  in  the  way  of  the  expedition  of  Don  Fernando,  ana 
for  a  time  perplexed  him  in  the  extreme.  He  was  passionately 
attached  to  the  young  lady ;  but  he  was  also  passionately  bent 
on  this  romantic  enterprise.  How  should  he  reconcile  the  two 
passionate  inclinations?  A  simple  and  obvious  arrangement  at 
length  presented  itself:  marry  Serafina,  enjoy  a  portion  of  the 
honeymoon  at  once,  and  defer  the  rest  until  his  return  from 
the  discovery  of  the  Seven  Cities  1 

He  hastened  to  make  known  this  most  excellent  arrange 
ment  to  Don  Ramiro,  when  the  long-smothered  wrath  of  the 
old  cavalier  burst  forth  in  a  storm  about  his  ears.  He  re 
proached  him  with  being  the  dupe  of  wandering  vagabonds 
and  wild  schemers,  and  of  squandering  all  his  real  possessions 
in  pursuit  of  empty  bubbles.  Don  Fernando  was  too  sanguine 
a  projector,  and  too  young  a  man,  to  listen  tamely  to  such 
language.  He  acted  with  what  is  technically  called  ' '  becoming 
spirit."  A  high  quarrel  ensued;  Don  Ramiro  pronounced  him 
a  mad  man,  and  forbade  all  farther  intercourse  with  his 
daughter,  until  he  should  give  proof  of  returning  sanity  by 
abandoning  this  mad-cap  enterprise;  while  Don  Fernando 
flung  out  of  the  house,  more  bent  than  ever  on  the  expedition, 
from  the  idea  of  triumphing  over  the  incredulity  of  the  gray- 
beard  when  he  should  return  successful. 

Don  Ramiro  repaired  to  his  daughter's  chamber  the  moment 
the  youth  had  departed.  He  represented  to  her  the  sanguine, 
unsteady  character  of  her  lover  and  the  chimerical  nature  of 
his  schemes ;  showed  her  the  propriety  of  suspending  all  inter 
course  with  him  until  he  should  recover  from  his  present 
hallucination ;  folded  her  to  his  bosom  with  parental  fondness, 
kissed  the  tear  that  stole  down  her  check,  and,  as  he  left  the 
chamber,  gently  locked  the  door ;  for  although  he  was  a  fond 
father,  and  had  a  high  opinion  of  the  submissive  temper  of  his 
child,  he  had  a  still  higher  opinion  of  the  conservative  virtues 
of  lock  and  key.  Whether  the  damsel  had  been  in  any  wise 
shaken  in  her  faith  as  to  the  schemes  of  her  lover,  arid  the 
existence  of  the  Island  of  the  Seven  Cities,  by  the  sage  repre 
sentations  of  her  father,  tradition  does  not  say ;  but  it  is  certain 


TUB  ENCHANTED  ISLAND.  59 

that  she  became  a  firm  believer  the  moment  she  heard  him 
turn  the  key  in  the  lock. 

Notwithstanding  the  interdict  of  Don  Ramiro,  therefore,  and 
his  shrewd  precautions,  the  intercourse  of  the  lovers  continued, 
although  clandestinely.  Don  Fernando  toiled  all  day,  hurrying 
forward  his  nautical  enterprise,  while  at  night  he  would  repair, 
beneath  the  grated  balcony  of  his  mistress,  to  carry  on  at  equal 
pace  the  no  less  interesting  enterprise  of  the  heart.  At  length 
the  preparations  for  the  expedition  were  completed.  Two  gal-1 
lant  caravels  lay  anchored  in  the  Tagus,  ready  to  sail  with  the 
morning  dawn ;  while  late  at  night,  by  the  pale  light  of  a  wan 
ing  moon,  Don  Fernando  sought  the  stately  mansion  of  Alvarez 
to  take  a  last  farewell  of  Serafina.  The  customary  signal  of  a 
few  low  touches  of  a  guitar  brought  her  to  the  balcony.  She 
was  sad  at  heart  and  full  of  gloomy  forebodings ;  but  her  lover 
strove  to  impart  to  her  his  own  buoyant  hope  and  youthful 
confidence.  ' '  A  few  short  months, "  said  he,  ' '  and  I  shall  return 
in  triumph.  Thy  father  will  then  blush  at  his  incredulity,  and 
will  once  more  welcome  me  to  his  house,  when  I  cross  its 
threshold  a  wealthy  suitor  and  Adelantado  of  the  Seven  Cities." 

The  beautiful  Serafina  shook  her  head  mournfully.  It  was 
not  on  those  points  that  she  felt  doubt  or  dismay.  She  believed 
most  implicitly  in  the  Island  of  the  Seven  Cities,  and  trusted 
devoutly  in  the  success  of  the  enterprise ;  but  she  had  heard  of 
the  inconstancy  of  the  seas,  and  the  inconstancy  of  those  who 
roam  them.  Now,  let  the  truth  be  spoken,  Don  Fernando,  if 
he  had  any  fault  in  the  world,  it  was  that  he  was  a  little  too 
inflammable;  that  is  to  say,  a  little  too  subject  to  take  fire  from 
the  sparkle  of  every  bright  eye :  he  had  been  somewhat  of  a 
rover  among  the  sex  on  shore,  what  might  he  not  be  on  sea? 
Might  he  not  meet  with  other  loves  in  foreign  ports?  Might  he 
not  behold  some  peerless  beauty  in  one  or  other  of  those  seven 
cities,  who  might  efface  the  image  of  Serafina  from  his 
thoughts? 

At  length  she  ventured  to  hint  her  doubts ;  but  Don  Fernando 
spurned  at  the  very  idea.  Never  could  his  heart  be  false  to 
Serafina!  Never  could  another  be  captivating  in  his  eyes! — 
never — never !  Repeatedly  did  he  bend  his  knee,  and  smite  his 
breast,  and  call  upon  the  silver  moon  to  witness  the  sincerity  of 
his  vows.  But  might  not  Serafina,  herself,  be  forgetful  of  her 
plighted  faith?  Might  not  some  wealthier  rival  present,  while 
he  was  tossing  on  the  sea,  and,  backed  by  the  authority  of  her 
father,  win  the  treasure  of  her  hand? 


60  WOLFERT'S  ROOST  AXV  MISCELLANIES. 

Alas,  how  little  did  he  know  Serafina's  heart !  The  more  hei 
father  should  oppose,  the  more  would  she  be  fixed  in  her  faith. 
Though  years  should  pass  before  his  return,  he  would  find  her 
true  to  her  vows.  Even  should  the  salt  seas  swallow  him  up, 
(and  her  eyes  streamed  with  salt  tears  at  the  very  thought,) 
never  would  she  be  the  wife  of  another — never— never !  She 
raised  her  beautiful  white  arms  between  the  iron  bars  of  the 
balcony,  and  invoked  the  moon  as  a  testimonial  of  her  faith. 

Thus,  according  to  immemorial  usage,  the  lovers  parted,  with 
many  a  vow  of  eternal  constancy.  But  will  they  keep  those 
vows?  Perish  the  doubt!  Have  they  not  called  the  constant 
moon  to  witness? 

With  the  morning  dawn  the  caravels  dropped  down  the 
Tagus  and  put  to  sea.  They  steered  for  the  Canaries,  in  those 
days  the  regions  of  nautical  romance.  Scarcely  had  they 
reached  those  latitudes,  when  a  violent  tempest  arose.  Don 
Fernando  soon  lost  sight  of  the  accompanying  caravel,  and  was 
driven  out  of  all  reckoning  by  the  fury  of  the  storm.  For 
several  weary  days  and  nights  he  was  tossed  to  and  fro,  at  the 
mercy  of  the  elements,  expecting  each  moment  to  be  swallowed 
up.  At  length,  one  day  toward  evening,  the  storm  subsided ; 
the  clouds  cleared  up,  as  though  a  veil  had  suddenly  been  with 
drawn  from  the  face  of  heaven,  and  the  setting  sun  shone 
gloriously  upon  a  fair  and  mountainous  island,  that  seemed 
close  at  hand.  The  tempest-tossed  mariners  rubbed  their 
eyes,  and  gazed  almost  incredulously  upon  this  land,  that  had 
emerged  so  suddenly  from  the  murky  gloom ;  yet  there  it  lay, 
spread  out  in  lovely  landscapes;  enlivened  by  villages,  and 
towers,  and  spires,  while  the  late  stormy  sea  rolled  in  peaceful 
billows  to  its  shores.  About  a  league  from  the  sea,  on  the 
banks  of  a  river,  stood  a  noble  city,  with  lofty  walls  and  towers, 
and  a  protecting  castle.  Don  Fernando  anchored  off  the  mouth 
of  the  river,  which  appeared  to  form  a  spacious  harbor.  In  a 
little  while  a  barge  was  seen  issuing  from  the  river.  It  was 
evidently  a  barge  of  ceremony,  for  it  was  richly  though  quaintly 
carved  and  gilt,  and  decorated  with  a  silken  awning  and  flutter 
ing  streamers,  while  a  banner,  bearing  the  sacred  emblem  of 
the  cross,  floated  to  the  breeze.  The  barge  advanced  slowly, 
impelled  by  sixteen  oars,  painted  of  a  bright  crimson.  The 
oarsmen  were  uncouth,  or  rather  antique,  in  their  garb,  and 
kept  stroke  to  the  regular  cadence  of  an  old  Spanish  ditty.  Be 
neath  the  awning  sat  a  cavalier,  in  a  rich  though  old-fashioned 
doublet,  with  an  enormous  sombrero  and  feather. 


THE  ENCHANTED  ISLAND.  61 

When  the  barge  reached  the  caravel,  the  cavalier  stepped  on 
board.  He  was  tall  and  gaunt,  with  a  long,  Spanish  visage, 
and  lack-lustre  eyes,  and  an  air  of  lofty  and  somewhat  pompous 
gravity.  His  mustaches  were  curled  up  to  his  ears,  his  beard 
was  forked  and  precise ;  he  wore  gauntlets  that  reached  to  his 
elbows,  and  a  Toledo  blade  that  strutted  out  behind,  while, 
in  front,  its  huge  basket-hilt  might  have  served  for  a  por 
ringer. 

Thrusting  out  a  long  spindle  leg,  and  taking  off  his  sombrero 
with  a  grave  and  stately  sweep,  he  saluted  Don  Fernando  by 
name,  and  welcomed  him,  in  old  Castilian  language,  and  in  the 
style  of  old  Castilian  courtesy. 

*  Don  Fernando  was  startled  at  hearing  himself  accosted  by 
name,  by  an  utter  stranger,  in  a  strange  land.  As  soon  as  he 
could  recover  from  his  surprise,  he  inquired  what  land  it  was  at 
which  he  had  arrived. 

"  The  Island  of  the  Seven  Cities  ! " 

Could  this  be  true?  Had  he  indeed  been  thus  tempest-driven 
upon  the  very  land  of  which  he  was  in  quest?  It  was  even  so. 
The  other  caravel,  from  which  he  had  been  separated  in  the 
storm,  had  made  a  neighboring  port  of  the  island,  and  an 
nounced  the  tidings  of  this  expedition,  which  came  to  restore 
the  country  to  the  great  community  of  Christendom.  The 
whole  island,  he  was  told,  was  given  up  to  rejoicings  on  the 
happy  event ;  and  they  only  awaited  his  arrival  to  acknowledge 
allegiance  to  the  crown  of  Portugal,  and  hail  him  as  Adelantado 
of  the  Seven  Cities.  A  grand  fete  was  to  be  solemnized  that 
very  night  in  the  palace  of  the  Alcayde  or  governor  of  the  city ; 
who,  on  beholding  the  most  opportune  arrival  of  the  caravel, 
had  despatched  his  grand  chamberlain,  in  his  barge  of  state,  to 
conduct  the  future  Adelantado  to  the  ceremony. 

Don  Fernando  could  scarcely  behove  but  that  this  was  all  a 
dream.  He  fixed  a  scrutinizing  gaze  upon  the  grand  chamber 
lain,  who,  having  delivered  his  message,  stood  in  buckram  dig 
nity,  drawn  up  to  his  full  stature,  curling  his  whiskers,  stroking 
his  beard,  and  looking  down  upon  him  with  inexpressible  lofti 
ness  through  his  lack-lustre  eyes.  There  was  no  doubting  the 
word  of  so  grave  and  ceremonious  a  hidalgo. 

Don  Fernando  now  arrayed  himself  in  gala  attire.  He  would 
have  launched  his  boat,  and  gone  on  shore  with  his  own  men, 
but  he  was  inf  orined  the  barge  of  state  was  expressly  provided 
for  his  accommodation,  and,  after  the  fete,  would  bring  him 
back  to  his  ship ;  in  which,  on  the  following  day,  he  might  enter 


62  WOLFERTS  ROOST  AND  MISCELLANIES. 

the  harbor  in  befitting  style.  He  accordingly  stepped  into  the 
barge,  and  took  his  seat  beneath  the  awning.  The  grand 
chamberlain  seated  himself  on  the  cushion  opposite.  Tlie 
rowers  bent  to  their  oars,  and  renewed  their  mournful  old 
ditty,  and  the  gorgeous,  but  unwieldy  barge  moved  slowly  and 
solemnly  through  the  water. 

The  night  closed  in,  before  they  entered  the  river.  They 
swept  along,  past  rock  and  promontory,  each  guarded  by  its 
tower.  The  sentinels  at  every  post  challenged  them  as  they 
passed  by. 

"Who  goes  there?" 

"The  Adelantado  of  the  Seven  Cities." 

"  He  is  welcome.    Pass  on. " 

On  entering  the  harbor,  they  rowed  close  along  an  armed 
galley,  of  the  most  ancient  form.  Soldiers  with  cross-bows 
were  stationed  on  the  deck. 

"  Who  goes  there  ?"  was  again  demanded. 

"  The  Adelantado  of  the  Seven  Cities." 

"He  is  welcome.    Pass  on." 

They  landed  at  a  broad  flight  of  stone  steps,  leading  up,  be 
tween  two  massive  towers,  to  the  water-gate  of  the  city,  at 
which  they  knocked  for  admission.  A  sentinel,  in  an  ancient 
steel  casque,  looked  over  the  wall.  "Who  is  there  ?" 

"  The  Adelantado  of  the  Seven  Cities." 

The  gate  swung  slowly  open,  grating  upon  its  rusty  hinges. 
They  entered  between  two  rows  of  iron-clad  warriors,  in  bat 
tered  armor,  with  cross-bows,  battle-axes,  and  ancient  maces, 
and  with  faces  as  old-fashioned  and  rusty  as  their  armor.  They 
saluted  Don  Fernando  in  military  style,  but  with  perfect  silence, 
as  he  passed  between  their  ranks.  The  city  was  illuminated, 
but  in  such  manner  as  to  give  a  more  shadowy  and  solemn 
effect  to  its  old-time  architecture.  There  were  bonfires  in  the 
principal  streets,  with  groups  about  them  in  such  old-fashioned 
garbs,  that  they  looked  like  the  fantastic  figures  that  roam  the 
streets  in  carnival  time.  Even  the  stately  dames  who  gazed 
from  the  balconies,  which  they  had  hung  with  antique  tapestry, 
looked  more  like  effigies  dressed  up  for  a  quaint  mummery, 
than  like  ladies  in  their  fashionable  attire.  Every  thing,  in 
short,  bore  the  stamp  of  former  ages,  as  if  the  world  had  sud 
denly  rolled  back  a  few  centuries.  Nor  was  this  to  be  wondered 
at.  Had  not  the  Island  of  the  Seven  Cities  been  for  several 
hundred  years  cut  off  from  all  communication  with  the  rest  of 
the  world,  and  was  it  not  natural  that  the  inhabitants  should 


THE  ENCHANTED  ISLAND.  63 

retain  many  cf  the  modes  and  customs  brought  here  by  their 
ancestors  ? 

One  thing  certainly  they  had  conserved  ;  the  old-fashioned 
Spanish  gravity  and  stateliness.  Though  this  was  a  time  of 
public  rejoicing,  and  though  Don  Fernando  was  the  object  of 
their  gratulations,  every  thing  was  conducted  with  the  most 
solemn  ceremony,  and  wherever  he  appeared,  instead  of  accla 
mations,  he  was  received  with  profound  silence,  and  the  most 
formal  reverences  and  swayings  of  their  sombreros. 

Arrived  at  the  palace  of  the  Alcayde,  the  usual  ceremonial 
was  repeated.  The  chamberlain  knocked  for  admission. 

"  "Who  is  there  ?  "  demanded  the  porter. 

"  The  Adelantado  of  the  Seven  Cities." 

"  He  is  welcome.    Pass  on. " 

The  grand  portal  was  thrown  open.  The  chamberlain  led  the 
way  up  a  vast  but  heavily  moulded  marble  stair-case,  and  so 
through  one  of  those  interminable  suites  of  apartments,  that 
are  the  pride  of  Spanish  palaces.  All  were  furnished  in  a  style 
of  obsolete  magnificence.  As  they  passed  through  the  cham 
bers,  the  title  of  Don  Fernando  was  forwarded  on  by  servants 
stationed  at  every  door ;  and  every  where  produced  the  most 
profound  reverences  and  courtesies.  At  length  they  reached  a 
magnificent  saloon,  blazing  with  tapers,  in  which  the  Alcayde, 
and  the  principal  dignitaries  of  the  city,  were  waiting  to  receive 
their  illustrious  guest.  The  grand  chamberlain  presented  Don 
Fernando  in  due  form,  and  falling  back  among  the  other 
officers  of  the  household,  stood  as  usual  curling  his  whiskers 
and  stroking  his  forked  beard. 

Don  Fernando  was  received  by  the  Alcayde  and  the  other 
dignitaries  with  the  same  stately  and  formal  courtesy  that  he 
had  every  where  remarked.  In  fact,  there  was  so  much  form 
and  ceremonial,  that  it  seemed  difficult  to  get  at  any  thing 
social  or  substantial.  Nothing  but  bows,  and  compliments,  and 
old-fashioned  courtesies.  The  Alcayde  and  his  courtiers  resem 
bled,  in  face  and  form,  those  quaint  worthies  to  be  seen  in  the 
pictures  of  old  illuminated  manuscripts;  while  the  cavaliers 
and  dames  who  thronged  the  saloon,  might  have  been  taken 
for  the  antique  figures  of  gobelin  tapestry  suddenly  vivified 
and  put  in  motion. 

The  banquet,  which  had  been  kept  back  until  the  arrival  of 
Don  Fernando,  was  now  announced;  and  such  a  feast!  such 
unknown  dishes  and  obsolete  dainties ;  with  the  peacock,  that 
bird  of  state  and  ceremony,  served  up  in  full  plumage,  in  a 


64  WOLFERTS  ROOST  AND  MISCELLANIES. 

golden  dish,  at  the  head  of  the  tahle.  And  then,  as  Don  Fer 
nando  cast  his  eyes  over  the  glittering  board,  what  a  vista  of 
odd  heads  and  head-dresses,  of  formal  bearded  dignitaries,  and 
stately  dames,  with  castellated  locks  and  towering  plumes ! 

As  fate  would  have  it,  on  the  other  side  of  Don  Fernando, 
•was  seated  the  daughter  of  the  Alcayde.  Sho  was  arrayed,  it 
is  true,  in  a  dress  that  might  have  been  worn  before  the  flood ; 
but  then,  she  had  a  melting  black  Andalusian  eye,  that  was 
perfectly  irresistible.  Her  voice,  too,  her  manner,  her  move 
ments,  all  smacked  of  Andalusia,  and  showed  how  female  fas 
cination  may  be  transmitted  from  age  to  ago,  and  clime  to 
dime,  without  ever  losing  its  power,  or  going  out  of  fashion. 
Those  who  know  the  witchery  of  the  sex,  in  that  most  amorous 
region  of  old  Spain,  may  judge  what  must  have  been  the  fasci 
nation  to  which  Don  Fernando  was  exposed,  when  seated  beside 
one  of  the  most  captivating  of  its  descendants.  He  was,  as  has 
already  been  hinted,  of  an  inflammable  temperament ;  with  a 
heart  ready  to  get  in  a  light  blaze  at  every  instant.  And  then 
he  had  been  so  wearied  by  pompous,  tedious  old  cavaliers,  with 
their  formal  bows  and  speeches ;  is  it  to  be  wondered  at  that  he 
turned  with  delight  to  the  Alcayde's  daughter,  all  smiles,  and 
dimples,  and  melting  looks,  and  melting  accents  ?  Beside,  for 
I  wish  to  give  him  every  excuse  in  my  power,  he  was  in  a  par 
ticularly  excitable  mood,  from  the  novelty  of  the  scene  before 
him,  and  his  head  was  almost  turned  with  this  sudden  and 
complete  realization  of  all  his  hopes  and  fancies ;  and  then,  in 
the  flurry  of  the  moment,  he  had  taken  frequent  draughts  at 
the  wine-cup,  presented  him  at  every  instant  by  officious  pages, 
and  all  the  world  knows  the  effect  of  such  draughts  in  giving 
potency  to  female  charms.  In  a  word,  there  is  no  concealing 
the  matter,  the  banquet  was  not  half  over,  before  Don  Fernan 
do  was  making  love,  outright,  to  the  Alcayde's  daughter.  It 
was  his  old  habitude,  contracted  long  before  his  matrimonial 
engagement.  The  young  lady  hung  her  head  coyly ;  her  eye 
rested  upon  a  ruby  heart,  sparkling  in  a  ring  on  the  hand  of 
Don  Fernando,  a  parting  gage  of  love  from  Serafina.  A  blush 
crimsoned  her  very  temples.  She  darted  a  glance  of  doubt  at 
the  ring,  and  then  at  Don  Fernando.  He  read  her  doubt,  and 
in  the  giddy  intoxication  of  the  moment,  drew  off  the  pledge  of 
his  affianced  bride,  and  slipped  it  on  the  finger  of  the  Alcayde's 
daughter. 

At  this  moment  the  banquet  broke  up.  The  chamberlain 
With  his  lofty  demeanor,  and  his  lack-lustre  eyes,  stood  before 


THE  ENCHANTED  ISLAND.  66 


him,  and  announced  that  the  barge  was  -waiting  to  conduct 
back  to  the  caravel.  Don  Fernando  took  a  formal  leave  of  the 
Alcayde  and  his  dignitaries,  and  a  tender  farewell  of  the  Al- 
cayde's  daughter,  with  a  promise  to  throw  himself  at  her  feet 
on  the  following  day.  He  was  rowed  back  to  his  vessel  in  the 
same  slow  and  stately  manner,  to  the  cadence  of  the  same 
mournful  old  ditty.  He  retired  to  his  cabin,  his  brain  whirling 
with  all  that  he  had  seen,  and  his  heart  now  and  then  giving 
him  a  twinge  as  he  recollected  his  temporary  infidelity  to  the 
beautiful  Serafina.  He  flung  himself  on  his  bed,  and  soon  fell 
into  a  feverish  sleep.  His  dreams  were  wild  and  incoherent. 
How  long  he  slept  he  knew  not,  but  when  he  awoke  he  found 
himself  in  a  strange  cabin,  with  persons  around  him  of  whom 
he  had  no  knowledge.  He  rubbed  his  eyes  to  ascertain  whether 
he  were  really  awake.  In  reply  to  his  inquiries,  he  was  in 
formed  that  he  was  on  board  of  a  Portuguese  ship,  bound  to 
Lisbon;  having  been  taken  senseless  from  a  wreck  drifting 
about  the  ocean. 

Don  Fernando  was  confounded  and  perplexed.  He  retraced 
every  thing  distinctly  that  had  happened  to  him  in  the  Island 
of  the  Seven  Cities,  and  until  he  had  retired  to  rest  on  board  of 
the  caravel.  Had  his  vessel  been  driven  from  her  anchors,  and 
wrecked  during  his  sleep?  The  people  about  him  could  give 
him  no  information  on  the  subject.  He  talked  to  them  of  the 
Island  of  the  Seven  Cities,  and  of  all  that  had  befallen  him 
there.  They  regarded  his  words  as  the  ravings  of  delirium, 
and  in  their  honest  solicitude,  administered  such  rough  reme 
dies,  that  he  was  fain  to  drop  the  subject,  and  observe  a 
cautious  taciturnity. 

At  length  they  arrived  in  the  Tagus,  and  anchored  before  the 
famous  city  of  Lisbon.  Don  Fernando  sprang  joyfully  on 
shore,  and  hastened  to  his  ancestral  mansion.  To  his  surprise, 
it  was  inhabited  by  strangers  ;  and  when  he  asked  about  his 
family,  no  one  could  give  him  any  information  concerning 
them. 

He  now  sought  the  mansion  of  Don  Eamiro,  for  the  tempo 
rary  flame  kindled  by  the  bright  eyes  of  the  Alcayde's  daughter 
had  long  since  burnt  itself  out,  and  his  genuine  passion  for 
Serafina  had  revived  with  all  its  fervor.  He  approached  the 
balcony,  beneath  which  he  had  so  often  serenaded  her.  Did 
his  eyes  deceive  him?  No  !  There  was  Serafina  herself  at  the 
balcony.  An  exclamation  of  rapture  burst  from  him,  as  he 
raised  his  arms  toward  her.  She  cast  upon  him  a  look  of  indig- 


66  WOLFERT'S  ROOST  AND  MISCELLANIES. 

nation,  and  hastily  retiring,  closed  the  casement.  Could  she 
have  heard  of  his  flirtation  with  the  Alcayde's  daughter  ?  He 
would  soon  dispel  every  doubt  of  his  constancy.  The  door  was 
open.  He  rushed  upstairs,  and  entering  the  room,  threw  him 
self  at  her  feet.  She  shrank  back  with  affright,  and  took  refuge 
in  the  arms  of  a  youthful  cavalier. 

"What  mean  you,  Sir,"  cried  the  latter,  "  by  this  intrusion  ?  " 

"What  right  have  you,"  replied  Don  Fernando,  "  to  ask  the 
question  ?  " 

"  The  right  of  an  affianced  suitor !  " 

Don  Fernando  started,  and  turned  pale.  "  Oh,  Serafina  ! 
Serafina !  "  cried  he  in  a  tone  of  agony,  "  is  this  thy  plighted 
constancy  ?  " 

"  Serafina  ? — what  mean  you  by  Serafina  ?  If  it  be  this  young 
lady  you  intend,  her  name  is  Maria." 

"  Is  not  this  Serafina  Alvarez,  and  is  not  that  her  portrait  ?  " 
cried  Don  Fernando,  pointing  to  a  picture  of  his  mistress. 

"  Holy  Virgin  !  "  cried  the  young  lady  ;  "  he  is  talking  of  my 
great-grandmother ! " 

An  explanation  ensued,  if  that  could  be  called  an  explana 
tion,  which  plunged  the  unfortunate  Fernando  into  tenfold 
perplexity.  If  he  might  believe  his  eyes,  he  saw  before  him 
his  beloved  Serafina;  if  he  might  believe  his  ears,  it  was  merely 
her  hereditary  form  and  features,  perpetuated  in  the  person  of 
her  great-granddaughter. 

His  brain  began  to  spin.  He  sought  the  office  of  the  Minister 
of  Marine,  and  made  a  report  of  his  expedition,  and  of  the 
Island  of  the  Seven  Cities,  which  he  had  so  fortunately  discov 
ered.  No  body  knew  any  thing  of  such  an  expedition,  or  such 
an  island.  He  declared  that  he  had  undertaken  the  enterprise 
under  a  formal  contract  with  the  crown,  and  had  received  a 
regular  commission,  constituting  him  Adelantado.  This  must 
be  matter  of  record,  and  he  insisted  loudly,  that  the  books  of 
the  department  should  be  consulted.  The  wordy  strife  at 
length  attracted  the  attention  of  an  old,  gray-headed  clerk, 
who  sat  perched  on  a  high  stool,  at  a  high  desk,  with  iron- 
rimmed  spectacles  on  the  top  of  a  thin,  pinched  nose,  copying 
records  into  an  enormous  folio.  He  had  wintered  and  sum 
mered  in  the  department  for  a  great  part  of  a  century,  until  he 
had  almost  grown  to  be  a  piece  of  the  desk  at  which  he  sat ; 
his  memory  was  a  mere  index  of  official  facts  and  documents, 
and  his  brain  was  little  better  than  red  tape  and  parchment 
After  peering  down  for  a  time  from  his  lofty  perch,  and  ascer- 


THE  ENCIIANTEV  ISLAND.  67 

turning  the  matter  in  controversy,  he  put  his  pen  behind  his 
ear,  and  descended.  He  remembered  to  have  heard  something 
from  his  predecessor  about  an  expedition  of  the  kind  in  ques 
tion,  but  then  it  had  sailed  during  the  reign  of  Don  loam  II., 
and  he  had  been  dead  at  least  a  hundred  years.  To  put  the 
matter  beyond  dispute,  however,  the  archives  of  the  Torve  do 
Tombo,  that  sepulchre  of  old  Portuguese  documents,  were  dili 
gently  searched,  and  a  record  was  found  of  a  contract  between 
the  crown  and  one  Fernando  de  Ulmo,  for  the  discovery  of  the 
Island  of  the  Seven  Cities,  and  of  a  commission  secured  to  him 
as  Adelantado  of  the  country  he  might  discover. 

"There!"  cried  Don  Fernando,  triumphantly,  "there  you 
have  proof,  before  your  own  eyes,  of  what  I  have  said.  I  am 
the  Fernando  de  Ulmo  specified  in  that  record.  I  have  discov 
ered  the  Island  of  the  Seven  Cities,  and  am  entitled  to  be 
Adelantado,  according  to  contract." 

The  story  of  Don  Fernando  had  certainly,  what  is  pronounced 
the  best  of  historical  foundation,  documentary  evidence;  but 
when  a  man,  in  the  bloom  of  youth,  talked  of  events  that  had 
taken  place  above  a  century  previously,  as  having  happened  to 
himself,  it  is  no  wonder  that  he  was  set  down  for  a  mad  man. 

The  old  clerk  looked  at  him  from  above  and  below  his  spec 
tacles,  shrugged  his  shoulders,  stroked  his  chin,  reascended 
his  lofty  stool,  took  the  pen  from  behind  his  ears,  and  resumed 
his  daily  and  eternal  task,  copying  records  into  the  fiftieth 
volume  of  a  series  of  gigantic  folios.  The  other  clerks  winked 
at  each  other  shrewdly,  and  dispersed  to  their  several  places, 
and  poor  Don  Fernando,  thus  left  to  himself,  flung  out  of  the 
office,  almost  driven  wild  by  these  repeated  perplexities. 

In  the  confusion  of  his  mind,  he  instinctively  repaired  to  the 
mansion  of  Alvarez,  but  it  was  barred  against  him.  To  break 
the  delusion  under  which  the  youth  apparently  labored,  and  to 
convince  him  that  the  Serafina  about  whom  he  raved  was  really 
dead,  he  was  conducted  to  her  tomb.  There  she  lay,  a  stately 
matron,  cut  out  in  alabaster ;  and  there  lay  her  husband  beside 
her ;  a  portly  cavalier,  in  armor ;  and  there  knelt,  on  each  side, 
the  effigies  of  a  numerous  progeny,  proving  that  she  had  been 
a  fruitful  vine.  Even  the  very  monument  gave  proof  of  the 
lapse  of  time,  for  the  hands  of  her  husband,  which  were  folded 
as  if  in  prayer,  had  lost  their  fingers,  and  the  face  of  the  once 
lovely  Serafina  was  noseless. 

Don  Fernando  felt  a  transient  glow  of  indignation  at  behold- 
mg  this  monumental  proof  of  the  inconstancy  of  his  mistress ; 


68  WOLFERTS  ROOST  AND  MISCELLANIES. 

but  who  could  expect  a  mistress  to  remain  constant  during  a 
whole  century  of  absence?  And  what  right  had  he  to  rail 
about  constancy,  after  what  had  passed  between  him  and  the 
Alcayde's  daughter?  The  unfortunate  cavalier  performed  one 
pious  act  of  tender  devotion;  he  had  the  alabaster  nose  of 
Serafina  restored  by  a  skilful  statuary,  and  then  tore  himself 
from  the  tomb. 

He  could  now  no  longer  doubt  the  fact  that,  somehow  or 
other,  he  had  skipped  over  a  whole  century,  during  the  night 
he  had  spent  at  the  Island  of  the  Seven  Cities ;  and  he  was  now 
as  complete  a  stranger  in  his  native  city,  as  if  he  had  never 
been  there.  A  thousand  times  did  he  wish  himself  back  to 
that  wonderful  island,  with  its  antiquated  banquet  halls,  where 
he  had  been  so  courteously  received ;  and  now  that  the  once 
young  and  beautiful  Serafina  was  nothing  but  a  great-grand 
mother  in  marble,  with  generations  of  descendants,  a  thousand 
times  would  he  recall  the  melting  black  eyes  of  the  Alcayde's 
daughter,  who  doubtless,  like  himself,  was  still  flourishing  in 
fresh  juvenility,  and  breathe  a  secret  wish  that  he  were  seated 
by  her  side. 

He  would  at  once  have  set  on  foot  another  expedition,  at  his 
own  expense,  to  cruise  in  search  of  the  sainted  island,  but  his 
means  were  exhausted.  He  endeavored  to  rouse  others  to  the 
enterprise,  setting  forth  the  certainty  of  profitable  results,  of 
which  his  own  experience  furnished  such  unquestionable 
proof.  Alas !  no  one  would  give  faith  to  his  tale ;  but  looked 
upon  it  as  the  feverish  dream  of  a  shipwrecked  man.  He 
persisted  in  his  efforts ;  holding  forth  in  all  places  and  all  com 
panies,  until  he  became  an  object  of  jest  and  jeer  to  the  light- 
minded,  who  mistook  his  earnest  enthusiasm  for  a  proof  o£ 
insanity;  and  the  very  children  in  the  streets  bantered  him 
with  the  title  of  "The  Adelantado  of  the  Seven  Cities." 

Finding  all  his  efforts  in  vain,  in  his  native  city  of  Lisbon. 
he  took  shipping  for  the  Canaries,  as  being  nearer  the  latitude 
of  his  former  cruise,  and  inhabited  by  people  given  to  nautical 
adventure.  Here  he  found  ready  listeners  to  his  story ;  for  the 
old  pilots  and  mariners  of  those  parts  were  notorious  island- 
hunters  and  devout  believers  in  all  the  wonders  of  the  seas. 
Indeed,  one  and  all  treated  his  adventure  as  a  common  occur 
rence,  and  turning  to  each  other,  with  a  sagacious  nod  of  tno 
head,  observed,  "He  has  been  at  the  Island  of  St.  Brandan." 

They  then  went  on  to  inform  him  of  that  great  marvel  and 
enigma  of  the  ocean ;  of  its  repeated  appearance  to  the  inhabi- 


NATIONAL  NOMENCLATURE.  69 

tants  of  their  islands;  and  of  the  many  but  ineffectual  expe 
ditions  that  had  been  made  in  search  of  it.  They  took  him  to 
a  promontory  of  the  island  of  Palma,  from  whence  the  shadowy 
St.  Brandan  had  oftenest  been  descried,  and  they  pointed  out 
the  very  tract  in  the  west  where  its  mountains  had  been  seen. 

Don  Fernando  listened  with  rapt  attention.  He  had  no  longer 
a  doubt  that  this  mysterious  and  fugacious  island  must  be  the 
same  with  that  of  the  Seven  Cities ;  and  that  there  must  be 
some  supernatural  influence  connected  with  it,  that  had 
operated  upon  himself,  and  made  the  events  of  a  night  occupy 
the  space  of  a  century. 

He  endeavored,  but  in  vain,  to  rouse  the  islanders  to  another 
attempt  at  discovery ;  they  had  given  up  the  phantom  island 
as  indeed  inaccessible.  Fernando,  however,  was  not  to  be  dis 
couraged.  The  idea  wore  itself  deeper  and  deeper  in  his  mind, 
until  it  became  the  engrossing  subject  of  his  thoughts  and 
object  of  his  being.  Every  morning  he  would  repair  to  the 
promontory  of  Palma,  and  sit  there  throughout  the  live-long 
day,  in  hopes  of  seeing  the  fairy  mountains  of  St.  Brandan 
peering  above  the  horizon ;  every  evening  he  returned  to  his 
home,  a  disappointed  man,  but  ready  to  resume  his  post  on  the 
following  morning. 

His  assiduity  was  all  in  vain.  He  grew  gray  in  his  ineffec 
tual  attempt ;  and  was  at  length  found  dead  at  his  post.  His 
grave  is  still  shown  in  the  island  of  Palma,  and  a  cross  is  erected 
on  the  spot  where  he  used  to  sit  and  look  out  upon  the  sea,  in 
hopes  of  the  reappearance  of  the  enchanted  island. 


NATIONAL  NOMENCLATURE. 

TO  THE  EDITOR  OF  THE  KNICKERBOCKER. 

SIR:  I  am  somewhat  of  the  same  way  of  thinking,  in  regard 
to  names,  with  that  profound  philosopher,  Mr.  Shandy,  the 
elder,  who  maintained  that  some  inspired  high  thoughts  and 
heroic  aims,  while  others  entailed  irretrievable  meanness  and 
vulgarity ;  insomuch  that  a  man  might  sink  under  the  insigni 
ficance  of  his  name,  and  be  absolutely  "Nicodemused  into 
nothing."  I  have  ever,  therefore,  thought  it  a  great  hardship 
for  a  man  to  be  obliged  to  struggle  through  life  with  some  ri 


70  WOLFERTS  nOOST  AND  MISCELLANIES. 

diculous  or  ignoble  Christian  name,  as  it  is  too  often  falsely 
called,  inflicted  on  him  in  infancy,  when  he  could  not  chooro 
for  himself ;  and  would  give  him  free  liberty  to  change  it  for 
one  more  to  his  taste,  when  he  had  arrived  at  years  of  dis 
cretion. 

I  have  the  same  notion  with  respect  to  local  names.  Somo 
at  once  prepossess  us  in  favor  of  a  place ;  others  repel  us,  by 
unlucky  associations  of  the  mind;  and  I  have  known  scenes 
worthy  of  being  the  very  haunt  of  poetry  and  romance,  yet 
doomed  to  irretrievable  vulgarity,  by  some  ill-chosen  name, 
which  not  even  the  magic  numbers  of  a  HALLKCK  or  a  BRYANT 
could  elevate  into  poetical  acceptation. 

This  is  an  evil  unfortunately  too  prevalent  throughout  our 
country.  Nature  has  stamped  the  land  with  features  of  subli 
mity  and  beauty ;  but  some  of  our  noblest  mountains  and  love- 
Jiest  streams  are  in  danger  of  remaining  for  ever  unhonored 
and  unsung,  from  bearing  appellations  totally  abhorrent  to  the 
Muse.  In  the  first  place,  our  country  is  deluged  with  names 
taken  from  places  in  the  old  world,  and  applied  to  places  having 
no  possible  affinity  or  resemblance  to  their  namesakes.  This 
betokens  a  forlorn  poverty  of  invention,  and  a  second-hand 
spirit,  content  to  cover  its  nakedness  with  borrowed  or  cast-off 
clothes  of  Europe. 

Then  we  have  a  shallow  affectation  of  scholarship :  the  whole 
catalogue  of  ancient  worthies  is  shaken  out  from  the  back  of 
Lempriere's  Classical  Dictionary,  and  a  wide  region  of  wild 
country  sprinkled  over  with  the  names  of  the  heroes,  poets, 
and  sages  of  antiquity,  jumbled  into  the  most  whimsical  juxta 
position.  Then  we  have  our  political  god-fathers ;  topographi 
cal  engineers,  perhaps,  or  persons  employed  by  government  to 
survey  and  lay  out  townships.  These,  forsooth,  glorify  the 
patrons  that  give  them  bread ;  so  we  have  the  names  of  the 
great  official  men  of  the  day  scattered  over  the  land,  as  if  they 
were  the  real  "  salt  of  the  earth,"  with  which  it  was  to  be  sea 
soned.  Well  for  us  is  it,  when  these  official  great  men  happen 
to  have  names  of  fair  acceptation ;  but  wo  unto  us,  should  a 
Tubbs  or  a  Potts  be  in  power :  we  are  sure,  in  a  little  while, 
to  find  Tubbsvilles  and  Pottsylvanias  springing  up  in  every 
direction. 

Under  these  melancholy  dispensations  of  taste  and  loyalty, 
therefore,  Mr.  Editor,  it  is  with  a  feeling  of  dawning  hope,  that 
I  have  lately  perceived  the  attention  of  persons  of  intelligence 
beginning  to  be  awakened  on  this  subject.  I  trust  if  the  matr 


NATIONAL  NOMENCLATURE.  71 

ter  should  once  be  taken  up,  it  will  not  be  readily  abandoned. 
We  are  yet  young  enough,  as  a  country,  to  remedy  and  reform 
much  of  what  has  been  done,  and  to  release  many  of  our  rising 
towns  and  cities,  and  our  noble  streams,  from  names  calculated 
to  vulgarize  the  land. 

I  have,  on  a  former  occasion,  suggested  the  expediency 
of  searching  out  the  original  Indian  names  of  places,  and 
wherever  they  are  striking  and  euphonious,  and  those  by 
which  they  have  been  superseded  are  glaringly  objectionable, 
to  restore  them.  They  would  have  the  merit  of  originality, 
and  of  belonging  to  the  country;  and  they  would  remain  as 
reliques  of  the  native  lords  of  the  soil,  when  every  other  vestige 
had  disappeared.  Many  of  these  names  may  easily  be  regained, 
by  reference  to  old  title  deeds,  and  to  the  archives  of  states  and 
counties.  In  my  own  case,  by  examining  the  records  of  the 
county  clerk's  office,  I  have  discovered  the  Indian  names  of 
various  places  and  objects  in  the  neighborhood,  and  have 
found  them  infinitely  superior  to  the  trite,  poverty-stricken 
names  which  had  been  given  by  the  settlers.  A  beautiful  pas 
toral  stream,  for  instance,  which  winds  for  many  a  mile 
through  one  of  the  loveliest  little  valleys  in  the  state,  has  long 
been  known  by  the  common-place  name  of  the  ' '  Saw-mill  River. " 
In  the  old  Indian  grants,  it  is  designated  as  the  Neperan. 
Another,  a  perfectly  wizard  stream,  which  winds  through  the 
wildest  recesses  of  Sleepy  Hollow,  bears  the  hum-drum  name 
of  Mill  Creek :  in  the  Indian  grants,  it  sustains  the  euphonious 
title  of  the  Pocantico. 

Similar  researches  have  released  Long-Island  from  many  of 
those  paltry  and  vulgar  names  which  fringed  its  beautiful  shores ; 
their  Cow  Bays,  and  Cow  Necks,  and  Oyster  Ponds,  and  Mus- 
quito  Coves,  which  spread  a  spell  of  vulgarity  over  the  whole 
island,  and  kept  persons  of  taste  and  fancy  at  a  distance. 

It  would  be  an  object  worthy  the  attention  of  the  historical 
societies,  which  are  springing  up  in  various  parts  of  the  Union, 
to  have  maps  executed  of  their  respective  states  or  neighbor 
hoods,  in  which  all  the  Indian  local  names  should,  as  far  as 
possible,  be  restored.  In  fact,  it  appears  to  me  that  the  nomen 
clature  of  the  country  is  almost  of  sufficient  importance  for  the 
foundation  of  a  distinct  society;  or  rather,  a  corresponding 
association  of  persons  of  taste  and  judgment,  of  all  parts  of  the 
Union.  Such  an  association,  if  properly  constituted  and  com 
posed,  comprising  especially  all  the  literary  talent  of  the 
country,  though  it  might  not  have  legislative  power  in  its 


72  WOLFERTS  ROOST  AND  MISCELLANIES. 

enactments,  yet  would  have  the  all-pervading  power  of  the 
press ;  and  the  changes  in  nomenclature  which  it  might  dictate, 
being  at  once  adopted  by  elegant  writers  in  prose  and  poetry, 
and  interwoven  with  the  literature  of  the  country,  would  ulti 
mately  pass  into  popular  currency. 

Should  such  a  reforming  association  arise,  I  beg  to  recommend 
to  its  attention  all  those  mongrel  names  that  have  the  adjec 
tive  New  prefixed  to  them,  and  pray  they  may  be  one  and  all 
kicked  out  of  the  country.  I  am  for  none  of  these  second-hand 
appellations,  that  stamp  us  a  second-hand  people,  and  that  are 
to  perpetuate  us  a  new  country  to  the  end  of  time.  Odds  my 
life !  Mr.  Editor,  I  hope  and  trust  we  are  to  live  to  be  an  old 
nation,  as  well  as  our  neighbors,  and  have  no  idea  that  our 
cities,  when  they  shall  have  attained  to  venerable  antiquity, 
shall  still  be  dubbed  New;- York,  and  ATeif-London,  and  new  this 
and  new  that,  like  the  Pont-Neuf,  (the  New  Bridge,)  at  Paris, 
which  is  the  oldest  bridge  in  that  capital,  or  like  the  Vicar  of 
Wakefield's  horse,  which  continued  to  be  called  "the  colt," 
until  he  died  of  old  age. 

Speaking  of  New- York,  reminds  me  of  some  observations 
which  I  met  with  some  time  since,  in  one  of  the  public  papers, 
about  the  name  of  our  state  and  city.  The  writer  proposes  to 
substitute  for  the  present  names,  those  of  the  STATE  OF  ONTARIO, 
and  the  CITY  OF  MANHATTAN.  I  concur  in  his  suggestion  most 
heartily.  Though  born  and  brought  up  in  the  city  of  New- 
York,  and  though  I  love  every  stick  and  stone  about  it,  yet  I  do 
not,  nor  ever  did,  relish  its  name.  I  like  neither  its  sound  nor 
its  significance.  As  to  its  significance,  the  very  adjective  new 
gives  to  our  great  commercial  metropolis  a  second-hand  char 
acter,  as  if  referring  to  some  older,  more  dignified,  and  impor 
tant  place,  of  which  it  was  a  mere  copy ;  though  in  fact,  if  I 
am  rightly  informed,  the  whole  name  commemorates  a  grant 
by  Charles  II.  to  his  brother,  the  duke  of  York,  made  in  the 
spirit  of  royal  munificence,  of  a  tract  of  country  which  did  not 
belong  to  him.  As  to  the  sound,  what  can  you  make  of  it, 
either  in  poetry  or  prose?  New- York  1  Why,  Sir,  if  it  were  to 
share  the  fate  of  Troy  itself;  to  suffer  a  ten  years'  siege,  and  be 
sacked  and  plundered ;  no  modern  Homer  would  ever  be  able 
to  elevate  the  name  to  epic  dignity. 

Now,  Sir,  ONTARIO  would  be  a  name  worthy  of  the  empire 
state.  It  bears  with  it  the  majesty  of  that  internal  sea  which 
washes  our  northwestern  shore.  Or,  if  any  objection  should  be 
made,  from  its  not  being  completely  embraced  within  our 


NATIONAL  NOMENCLATURE.  73 

boundaries,  there  is  the  MOHEGAN,  one  of  the  Indian  names  for 
that  glorious  river,  the  Hudson,  which  would  furnish  an  excel 
lent  state  appellation.  So  also  New-York  might  be  called  Man- 
hatta,  as  it  is  named  in  some  of  the  early  records,  and  Manhat 
tan  used  as  the  adjective.  Manhattan,  however,  stands  well  as  a 
substantive,  and  "  Manhattanese,"  which  I  observe  Mr.  COOPEB 
has  adopted  in  some  of  his  writings,  would  be  a  very  good 
appellation  for  a  citizen  of  the  commercial  metropolis. 

A  word  or  two  more,  Mr.  Editor,  and  I  have  done.  We  want 
a  NATIONAL  NAME.  We  want  it  poetically,  and  we  want  it  poli 
tically.  With  the  poetical  necessity  of  the  case  I  shall  not 
trouble  myself.  I  leave  it  to  our  poets  to  tell  how  they  manage 
to  steer  that  collocation  of  words,  "  The  United  States  of  North 
America,"  down  the  swelling  tide  of  song,  and  to  float  the 
whole  raft  out  upon  the  sea  of  heroic  poesy.  I  am  now  speak 
ing  of  the  mere  purposes  of  common  life.  How  is  a  citizen  of 
this  republic  to  designate  himself?  As  an  American?  There 
are  two  Americas,  each  subdivided  into  various  empires, 
rapidly  rising  in  importance.  As  a  citizen  of  the  United 
States?  It  is  a  clumsy,  lumbering  title,  yet  still  it  is  not  dis 
tinctive  ;  for  we  have  now  the  United  States  of  Central  Amer 
ica;  and  heaven  knows  how  many  "  United  States"  may  spring 
up  under  the  Proteus  changes  of  Spanish  America. 

This  may  appear  matter  of  small  concernment ;  but  any  one 
that  has  travelled  in  foreign  countries  must  be  conscious  of  the 
embarrassment  and  circumlocution  sometimes  occasioned  by 
the  want  of  a  perfectly  distinct  and  explicit  national  appella 
tion.  In  France,  when  I  have  announced  myself  as  an  Ameri 
can,  I  have  been  supposed  to  belong  to  one  of  the  French 
colonies ;  in  Spain,  to  be  from  Mexico,  or  Peru,  or  some  other 
Spanish- American  country.  Eepeatedly  have  I  found  myself 
involved  in  a  long  geographical  and  political  definition  of  my 
national  identity. 

Now,  Sir,  meaning  no  disrespect  to  any  of  our  co-heirs  of  this 
great  quarter  of  the  world,  I  am  for  none  of  this  coparceny  in 
a  name  that  is  to  mingle  us  up  with  the  riff-raff  colonies  and 
off -sets  of  every  nation  of  Europe.  The  title  of  American  may 
serve  to  tell  the  quarter  of  the  world  to  which  I  belong,  the 
same  as  a  Frenchman  or  an  Englishman  may  call  himself  a 
European  ;  but  I  want  my  own  peculiar  national  name  to  rally 
under.  I  want  an  appellation  that  shall  tell  at  once,  and  in  a 
way  not  to  be  mistaken,  that  I  belong  to  this  very  portion  of 
America,  geographical  and  political,  to  which  it  is  my  pride 


74  WOLFERT'S  BOOST  AND  MISCELLANIES. 

and  happiness  to  belong  ;  that  I  am  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  race 
which  founded  this  Anglo-Saxon  empire  in  the  wilderness  ;  and 
that  I  have  no  part  or  parcel  with  any  other  race  or  empire, 
Spanish,  French,  or  Portuguese,  in  either  of  the  Americas. 
Such  an  appellation,  Sir,  would  have  magic  in  it.  It  would 
bind  every  part  of  the  confederacy  together  as  with  a  key 
stone  ;  it  would  be  a  passport  to  the  citizen  of  our  republic 
throughout  the  world. 

We  have  it  in  our  power  to  furnish  ourselves  with  such  a 
national  appellation,  from  one  of  the  grand  and  eternal  fea 
tures  of  our  country ;  from  that  noble  chain  of  mountains 
which  formed  its  back-bone,  and  ran  through  the  "  old  con 
federacy,"  when  it  first  declared  our  national  independence. 
I  allude  to  the  Appalachian  or  Alleghany  mountains.  We 
might  do  this  without  any  very  inconvenient  change  in  our 
present  titles.  We  might  still  use  the  phrase,  "  The  United 
States,"  substituting  Appalachia,  or  Alleghania,  (I  should  pre 
fer  the  latter,)  in  place  of  America.  The  title  of  Appalachian, 
or  Alleghanian,  would  still  announce  us  as  Americans,  but 
would  specify  us  as  citizens  of  the  Great  Republic.  Even  our 
old  national  cypher  of  U.  S.  A.  might  remain  unaltered,  desig 
nating  the  United  States  of  Alleghania. 

These  are  crude  ideas,  Mr.  Editor,  hastily  thrown  out  to 
elicit  the  ideas  of  others,  and  to  call  attention  to  a  subject  of 
more  national  importance  than  may  at  first  be  supposed. 

Very  respectfully  yours, 

GEOFFREY  CRAYON. 


DESULTORY  THOUGHTS  ON  CRITICISM. 

"  LIT  a  man  write  never  so  well,  there  are  now-a-days  a  sort  of  persons  they  call 
critics,  that,  egad,  have  no  more  wit  in  them  than  so  many  hobby-horses:  but 
they'll  laugh  at  you,  Sir,  and  find  fault,  and  censure  things,  that,  egad,  I'm  sure 
they  are  not  able  to  do  themselves;  a  sort  of  envious  persons,  that  emulate  the 
glories  of  persons  of  parts,  and  think  to  build  their  fame  by  calumniation  of  per 
sons  that,  egad,  to  my  knowledge,  of  all  persons  in  the  world,  are  in  nature  the 
persons  that  do  as  much  despise  all  that,  as— a—  In  fine,  I'll  say  no  more  of  'em  1" 
— REHEARSAL. 

ALL  the  world  knows  the  story  of  the  tempest-tossed  voyager, 
who,  coming  upon  a  strange  coast,  and  seeing  a  man  hanging 
in  chains,  hailed  it  with  joy,  as  the  sign  of  a  civilized  country. 
In  like  manner  we  may  ha_il,  as  a  proof  of  the  rapid  advance 


DESULTORY  THOUGHTS  ON  CRITICISM.  79 

ment  of  civilization  and  refinement  in  this  country,  the  in' 
creasing  number  of  delinquent  authors  daily  gibbeted  for  the 
edification  of  the  public. 

In  this  respect,  as  in  every  other,  we  are  "going ahead "  with 
accelerated  velocity,  and  promising  to  outstrip  the  superannu 
ated  countries  of  Europe.  It  is  really  astonishing  to  see  the 
number  of  tribunals  incessantly  springing  up  for  the  trial  of 
literary  offences.  Independent  of  the  high  courts  of  Oyer  and 
Terminer,  the  great  quarterly  reviews,  we  have  innumerable 
minor  tribunals,  monthly  and  weekly,  down  to  the  Pie-poudre 
courts  in  the  daily  papers ;  insomuch  that  no  culprit  stands  so 
little  chance  of  escaping  castigation,  as  an  unlucky  author, 
guilty  of  an  unsuccessful  attempt  to  please  the  public. 

Seriously  speaking,  however,  it  is  questionable  whether  our 
national  literature  is  sufficiently  advanced,  to  bear  this  excess 
of  criticism ;  and  whether  it  would  not  thrive  better,  if  allowed 
to  spring  up,  for  some  time  longer,  in  the  freshness  and  vigor 
of  native  vegetation.  When  the  worthy  Judge  Coulter,  of 
Virginia,  opened  court  for  the  first  time  in  one  of  the  upper 
counties,  he  was  for  enforcing  all  the  rules  and  regulations 
that  had  grown  into  use  in  the  old,  long-settled  counties. 
"This  is  all  very  well,"  said  a  shrewd  old  farmer;  "but  let  me 
tell  you,  Judge  Coulter,  you  set  your  coulter  too  deep  for  a 
new  soil." 

For  my  part,  I  doubt  whether  either  writer  or  reader  is 
benefited  by  what  is  commonly  called  criticism.  The  former 
is  rendered  cautious  and  distrustful ;  he  fears  to  give  way  to 
those  kindling  emotions,  and  brave  sallies  of  thought,  which 
bear  him  up  to  excellence;  the  latter  is  made  fastidious  and 
cynical;  or  rather,  he  surrenders  his  own  independent  taste 
and  judgment,  and  learns  to  like  and  dislike  at  second  hand. 

Let  us,  for  a  moment,  consider  the  nature  of  this  thing  called 
criticism,  which  exerts  such  a  sway  over  the  literary  world. 
The  pronoun  we,  used  by  critics,  has  a  most  imposing  and 
delusive  sound.  The  reader  pictures  to  himself  a  conclave  of 
learned  men,  deliberating  gravely  and  scrupulously  on  the 
merits  of  the  book  in  question;  examining  it  page  by  page, 
comparing  and  balancing  their  opinions,  and  when  they  have 
united  in  a  conscientious  verdict,  publishing  it  for  the  benefit 
of  the  world :  whereas  the  criticism  is  generally  the  crude  and 
hasty  production  of  an  individual,  scribbling  to  while  away  an 
idle  hour,  to  oblige  a  book-seller,  or  to  defray  current  expenses. 
How  often  is  it  the  passing  notion  of  the  hour,  affected  by 


76  WOLFERTS  ROOST  AND  MISCELLANIES. 

accidental  circumstances ;  by  indisposition,  by  peevishness,  by 
vapors  or  indigestion ;  by  personal  prejudice,  or  party  feeling. 
Sometimes  a  work  is  sacrificed,  because  the  reviewer  wishes  a 
satirical  article ;  sometimes  because  he  wants  a  humorous  one  •, 
and  sometimes  because  the  author  reviewed  has  become  offen 
sively  celebrated,  and  offers  high  game  to  the  literary  marks 
man. 

How  often  would  the  critic  himself,  if  a  conscientious  man, 
reverse  his  opinion,  had  he  time  to  revise  it  in  a  more  sunny 
moment ;  but  the  press  is  waiting,  the  printer's  devil  is  at 
his  elbow ;  the  article  is  wanted  to  make  the  requisite  variety 
for  the  number  of  the  review,  or  the  author  has  pressing 
occasion  for  the  sum  he  is  to  receive  for  the  article,  so  it  is  sent 
off,  all  blotted  and  blurred ;  with  a  shrug  of  the  shoulders,  and 
the  consolatory  ejaculation:  "Pshaw!  curse  it!  it's  nothing 
but  a  review !" 

The  critic,  too,  who  dictates  thus  oracularly  to  the  world,  is 
perhaps  some  dingy,  ill-favored,  ill-mannered  varlet,  who, 
were  he  to  speak  by  word  of  mouth,  would  be  disregarded,  if 
not  scoffed  at ;  but  such  is  the  magic  of  types ;  such  the  mystic 
operation  of  anonymous  writing;  such  the  potential  effect  of 
the  pronoun  we,  that  his  crude  decisions,  fulminated  through 
the  press,  become  circulated  far  and  wide,  control  the  opinions 
of  the  world,  and  give  or  destroy  reputation. 

Many  readers  have  grown  timorous  in  their  judgments  since 
the  all-pervading  currency  of  criticism.  They  fear  to  express 
a  revised,  frank  opinion  about  any  new  work,  and  to  relish  it 
honestly  and  heartily,  lest  it  should  be  condemned  in  the  next 
review,  and  they  stand  convicted  of  bad  taste.  Hence  they 
hedge  their  opinions,  like  a  gambler  his  bets,  and  leave  an 
opening  to  retract,  and  retreat,  and  qualify,  and  neutralize 
every  unguarded  expression  of  delight,  until  their  very  praise 
declines  into  a  faintness  that  is  damning. 

Were  every  one,  on  the  contrary,  to  judge  for  himself,  and 
speak  his  mind  frankly  and  fearlessly,  we  should  have  more 
true  criticism  in  the  world  than  at  present.  Whenever  a  per 
son  is  pleased  with  a  work,  he  may  be  assured  that  it  has  good 
qualities.  An  author  who  pleases  a  variety  of  readers,  must 
possess  substantial  powers  of  pleasing;  or,  in  other  words, 
intrinsic  merits ;  for  otherwise  we  acknowledge  an  effect,  and 
deny  the  cause.  The  reader,  therefore,  should  not  suffer  him 
self  to  be  readily  shaken  from  the  conviction  of  his  own  feelings, 
by  the  sweeping  censures  of  pseudo  critics.  The  author  he  has 


DESULTORY  THOUGHTS  ON  CRITICISM.  77 

admired,  may  be  chargeable  with  a  thousand  faults ;  but  it  is 
nevertheless  beauties  and  excellencies  that  have  excited  his 
admiration ;  and  he  should  recollect  that  taste  and  judgment 
are  as  much  evinced  in  the  perception  of  beauties  among 
defects,  as  in  a  detection  of  defects  among  beauties.  For  my 
part,  I  honor  the  blessed  and  blessing  spirit  that  is  quick  to  dis 
cover  and  extol  all  that  is  pleasing  and  meritorious.  Give  me 
the  honest  bee,  that  extracts  honey  from  the  humblest  weed, 
but  save  me  from  the  ingenuity  of  the  spider,  which  traces  its 
venom,  even  in  the  midst  of  a  flower-garden. 

If  the  mere  fact  of  being  chargeable  with  faults  and  imper 
fections  is  to  condemn  an  author,  who  is  to  escape?  The  great 
est  writers  of  antiqiiity  have,  in  this  way,  been  obnoxious  to 
criticism.  Aristotle  himself  has  been  accused  of  ignorance; 
Aristophanes  of  impiety  and  buffoonery ;  Virgil  of  plagiarism, 
and  a  want  of  invention ;  Horace  of  obscurity ;  Cicero  has  been 
said  to  want  vigor  and  connexion,  and  Demosthenes  to  be 
deficient  in  nature,  and  in  purity  of  language.  Yet  these  have 
all  survived  the  censures  of  the  critic,  and  flourished  on  to  a 
glorious  immortality.  Every  now  and  then  the  world  is  startled 
by  some  new  doctrines  in  matters  of  taste,  some  levelling  attacks 
on  established  creeds ;  some  sweeping  denunciations  of  whole 
generations,  or  schools  of  writers,  as  they  are  called,  who  had 
seemed  to  be  embalmed  and  canonized  in  public  opinion.  Such 
has  been  the  case,  fur  instance,  with  Pope,  and  Dryden,  and 
Addison,  who  for  a  time  have  almost  been  shaken  from  their 
pedestals,  and  treated  as  false  idols. 

It  is  singular,  also,  to  see  the  fickleness  of  the  world  with 
respect  to  its  favorites.  Enthusiasm  exhausts  itself,  and  pre 
pares  the  way  for  dislike.  The  public  is  always  for  positive 
sentiments,  and  new  sensations.  When  wearied  of  admiring,  it 
delights  to  censure ;  thus  coining  a  double  set  of  enjoyments  out 
of  the  same  subject.  Scott  and  Byron  are  scarce  cold  in  their 
graves,  and  already  we  find  criticism  beginning  to  call  in  ques 
tion  those  powers  which  held  the  world  in  magic  thraldom. 
Even  in  our  own  country,  one  of  its  greatest  geniuses  has  had 
some  rough  passages  with  the  censors  of  the  press ;  and  instant 
ly  criticism  begins  to  unsay  all  that  it  has  repeatedly  said  in 
his  praise ;  and  the  public  are  almost  led  to  believe  that  the  pen 
which  has  so  often  delighted  them,  is  absolutely  destitute  of  the 
power  to  delight ! 

If,  then,  such  reverses  in  opinion  as  to  matters  of  taste  can 
be  so  readily  brought  about,,  when  may  an  author  feel  himself 


78  WOLFERT8  ROOST  AND  ^fTSCSLLANISS. 

secure?  Where  is  the  anchorin^-ground  of  popularity,  when 
he  may  thus  be  driven  from  his  moorings,  and  foundered  even 
in  harbor?  The  reader,  too,  when  he  is  to  consider  himself 
safe  in  admiring,  when  he  sees  long-established  altars  over 
thrown,  and  his  household  deities  dashed  to  the  ground ! 

There  is  one  consolatory  reflection.  Every  abuse  carries  with 
it  its  own  remedy  or  palliation.  Thus  the  excess  of  crude  and 
hasty  criticism,  which  has  of  late  prevailed  throughout  the 
literary  world,  and  threatened  to  overrun  our  country,  begins 
to  produce  its  own  antidote.  Where  there  is  a  multiplicity  of 
contradictory  paths,  a  man  must  make  his  choice ;  in  so  doing, 
he  has  to  exercise  his  judgment,  and  that  is  one  great  step  to 
mental  independence.  He  begins  to  doubt  all,  where  all  differ, 
and  but  one  can  be  in  the  right.  He  is  driven  to  trust  to  his 
own  discernment,  and  his  natural  f eelings ;  and  here  he  is  most 
likely  to  be  safe.  The  author,  too,  finding  that  what  is  con 
demned  at  one  tribunal,  is  applauded  at  another,  though  per 
plexed  for  a  time,  gives  way  at  length  to  the  spontaneous 
impulse  of  his  genius,  and  the  dictates  of  his  taste,  and  writes 
in  the  way  most  natural  to  himself.  It  is  thus  that  criticism, 
which  by  its  severity  may  have  held  the  little  world  of  writers 
in  check,  may,  by  its  very  excess,  disarm  itself  of  its  terrors, 
and  the  hardihood  of  talent  become  restored.  G.  C. 


SPANISH  EOMANCE. 

TO  THE  EDITOR  OF  THE  KNICKERBOCKER. 

SIR:  I  have  already  given  you  a  legend  or  two  drawn  from 
ancient  Spanish  sources,  and  may  occasionally  give  you  a  few 
more.  I  love  these  old  Spanish  themes,  especially  when  they 
have  a  dash  of  the  Morisco  in  them,  and  treat  of  the  times 
when  the  Moslems  maintained  a  foot-hold  in  the  peninsula. 
They  have  a  high,  spicy,  oriental  flavor,  not  to  be  found  in  any 
other  themes  that  are  merely  European.  In  fact,  Spain  is  a 
country  that  stands  alone  in  the  midst  of  Europe ;  severed  in 
habits,  manners,  and  modes  of  thinking,  from  all  its  conti 
nental  neighbors.  It  is  a  romantic  country ;  but  its  romance 
has  none  of  the  sentimentality  of  modern  European  romance ; 
it  is  chiefly  derived  from  the  brilliant  regions  of  the  East,  and 
from  the  high-minded  school  of  Saracenic  chivalry. 


SPANISH  ROMANCE.  79 

The  Arab  invasion  and  conquest  brought  a  higher  civilization 
and  a  nobler  style  of  thinking  into  Gothic  Spain.  The  Arabs 
were  a  quick-witted,  sagacious,  proud-spirited,  and  poetical 
people,  and  were  imbued  with  oriental  science  and  literature. 
Wherever  they  established  a  seat  of  power,  it  became  a  rally 
ing  place  lor  the  learned  and  ingenious ;  and  they  softened  and 
refined  the  people  whom  they  conquered.  By  degrees,  occu 
pancy  seemed  to  give  them  a  hereditary  right  to  their  foot 
hold  in  the  land ;  they  ceased  to  be  looked  upon  as  invaders, 
and  were  regarded  as  rival  neighbors.  The  peninsula,  broken 
up  into  a  variety  of  states,  both  Christian  and  Moslem,  became 
for  centuries  a  great  campaigning  ground,  where  the  art  of  war 
seemed  to  be  the  principal  business  of  man,  and  was  carried  to 
the  highest  pitch  of  romantic  chivalry.  The  original  ground 
of  hostility,  a  difference  of  faith,  gradually  lost  its  rancor. 
Neighboring  states,  of  opposite  creeds,  were  occasionally  linked 
together  in  alliances,  offensive  and  defensive ;  so  that  the  cross 
and  crescent  were  to  be  seen  side  by  side  fighting  against  some 
common  enemy.  In  times  of  peace,  too,  the  noble  youth  of 
either  faith  resorted  to  the  same  cities,  Christian  or  Moslem,  to 
school  themselves  in  military  science.  Even  in  the  temporary 
truces  of  sanguinary  wars,  the  warriors  who  had  recently 
striven  together  in  the  deadly  conflicts  of  the  field,  laid  aside 
their  animosity,  met  at  tournaments,  jousts,  and  other  mili 
tary  festivities,  and  exchanged  the  courtesies  of  gentle  and 
generous  spirits.  Thus  the  opposite  races  became  frequently 
mingled  together  in  peaceful  intercourse,  or  if  any  rivalry  took 
place,  it  was  in  those  high  courtesies  and  nobler  acts  which  be 
speak  the  accomplished  cavalier.  Warriors  of  opposite  creeds 
became  ambitious  of  transcending  each  other  in  magnanimity 
as  well  as  valor.  Indeed,  the  chivalric  virtues  were  refined 
upon  to  a  degree  sometimes  fastidious  and  constrained ;  but  at 
other  tunes,  inexpressibly  noble  and  affecting.  The  annals  of 
the  times  teem  with  illustrious  instances  of  hight-wrought 
courtesy,  romantic  generosity,  lofty  disinterestedness,  and 
punctilious  honor,  that  warm  the  very  soul  to  read  them. 
These  have  furnished  themes  for  national  plays  and  poems,  or 
have  been  celebrated  in  those  all-pervading  ballads  which  are 
as  the  life-breath  of  the  people,  and  thus  have  continued  to 
exercise  an  influence  on  the  national  character  which  centuries 
of  vicissitude  and  decline  have  not  been  able  to  destroy ;  so 
that,  with  all  their  faults,  and  they  are  many,  the  Spaniards, 
even  at  the  present  day,  are  on  many  points  the  most  high- 


80  WOLFERTS  ROOST  AND  MISCELLANIES. 

minded  and  proud-spirited  people  of  Europe.  It  is  true,  the 
romance  of  feeling  derived  from  the  sources  I  have  mentioned, 
has,  like  all  other  romance,  its  affectations  and  extremes.  It 
renders  the  Spaniard  at  times  pompous  and  grandiloquent; 
prone  to  carry  the  "  pundonor,"  or  point  of  honor,  beyond  the 
bounds  of  sober  sense  and  sound  morality;  disposed,  in  tho 
midst  of  poverty,  to  affect  the  "  grande  caballero,"  and  to  look 
down  with  sovereign  disdain  upon  "arts  mechanical,"  and  all 
the  gainful  pursuits  of  plebeian  lif e ;  but  this  very  inflation  of 
spirit,  while  it  fills  his  brain  with  vapors,  lifts  him  above  a 
thousand  meannesses;  and  though  it  often  keeps  him  in  in 
digence,  ever  protects  him  from  vulgarity. 

In  the  present  day,  when  popular  literature  is  running  into 
the  low  levels  of  life  and  luxuriating  on  the  vices  and  follies  of 
mankind,  and  when  the  universal  pursuit  of  gain  is  trampling 
down  the  early  growth  of  poetic  feeling  and  wearing  out  the 
verdure  of  the  soul,  I  question  whether  it  would  not  be  of 
service  for  the  reader  occasionally  to  turn  to  these  records  of 
prouder  tunes  and  loftier  modes  of  thinking,  and  to  steep  him 
self  to  the  very  lips  in  old  Spanish  romance. 

For  my  own  part,  I  have  a  shelf  or  two  of  venerable,  parch 
ment-bound  tomes,  picked  up  here  and  there  about  the  pe 
ninsula,  and  filled  with  chronicles,  plays,  and  ballads,  about 
Moors  and  Christians,  which  I  keep  by  me  as  mental  tonics,  in 
the  same  way  that  a  provident  housewife  has  her  cupboard 
of  cordials.  Whenever  I  find  my  mind  brought  below  par 
by  the  commonplace  of  every-day  life,  or  jarred  by  the  sordid 
collisions  of  the  world,  or  put  out  of  tune  by  the  shrewd 
selfishness  of  modern  utilitarianism,  I  resort  to  these  venerable 
tomes,  as  did  the  worthy  hero  of  La  Mancha  to  his  books  of 
chivalry,  and  refresh  and  tone  up  my  spirit  by  a  deep  draught 
of  their  contents.  They  have  some  such  effect  upon  me  as 
Falstaff  ascribes  to  a  good  Sherris  sack,  "  warming  the  blood 
and  filling  the  brain  with  fiery  and  delectable  shapes." 

I  here  subjoin,  Mr.  Editor,  a  small  specimen  of  the  cordials  I 
have  mentioned,  just  drawn  from  my  Spanish  cupboard,  which 
I  recommend  to  your  palate.  If  you  find  it  to  your  taste,  you 
may  pass  it  on  to  your  readers. 

Your  correspondent  and  well-wisher, 

GEOFFREY  CRAYON. 


SPANISH  ROMANCE.  81. 

LEGEND  OF  DON  MUNIO  SANCHO  DE  HINOJ08A. 
BY  THE  AUTHOR  OF  THE  SKETCH-BOOK. 

IN  the  cloisters  of  the  ancient  Benedictine  convent  of  San 
Domingo,  at  Silos,  in  Castile,  are  the  mouldering  yet  magni 
ficent  monuments  of  the  once  powerful  and  chivalrous  family 
of  Ilinojosa.  Among  these,  reclines  the  marble  figure  of  a 
knight,  in  complete  armor,  with  the  hands  pressed  together,  as 
it  in  prayer.  On  one  side  of  his  tomb  is  sculptured  in  relief  a 
band  of  Christian  cavaliers,  capturing  a  cavalcade  of  male  and 
female  Moors ;  on  the  other  side,  the  same  cavaliers  are  repre 
sented  kneeling  before  an  altar.  The  tomb,  like  most  of  the 
neighboring  monuments,  is  almost  in  ruins,  and  the  sculpture 
is  nearly  unintelligible,  excepting  to  the  keen  eye  of  the  anti 
quary.  The  story  connected  with  the  sepulchre,  however,  is 
still  preserved  in  the  old  Spanish  chronicles,  and  is  to  the  fol 
lowing  purport. 


IN  old  times,  several  hundred  years  ago,  there  was  a  noble 
Castilian  cavalier,  named  Don  Munio  Sancho  de  Hinojosa,  lord 
of  a  border  castle,  which  had  stood  the  brunt  of  many  a  Moor 
ish  foray.  He  had  seventy  horsemen  as  his  household  troops, 
all  of  the  ancient  Castilian  proof ;  stark  warriors,  hard  riders, 
and  men  of  iron ;  with  these  he  scoured  the  Moorish  lands,  and 
made  his  name  terrible  throughout  the  borders.  His  castle 
hall  was  covered  with  banners,  and  scimetars,  and  Moslem 
helms,  the  trophies  of  his  prowess.  Don  Munio  was,  more 
over,  a  keen  huntsman;  and  rejoiced  in  hounds  of  all  kinds, 
steeds  for  the  chase,  and  hawks  for  the  towering  sport  of 
falconry.  When  not  engaged  in  warfare,  his  delight  was  to 
,  beat  up  the  neighboring  forests ;  and  scarcely  ever  did  he  ride 
forth,  without  hound  and  horn,  a  boar-spear  in  his  hand,  or 
a  hawk  upon  his  fist,  and  an  attendant  train  of  huntsmen. 

His  wife,  Donna  Maria  Palacin,  was  of  a  gentle  and  timid  na 
ture,  little  fitted  to  be  the  spouse  of  so  hardy  and  adventurous 
a  knight ;  and  many  a  tear  did  the  poor  lady  shed,  when  he 
sallied  forth  upon  his  daring  enterprises,  and  many  a  prayer 
did  she  offer  up  for  his  safety. 

As  this  doughty  cavalier  was  one  day  hunting,  he  stationed 
himself  in  a  thicket,  on  tho  borders  of  a  green  glade  of  the 


82  WOLFERTS  ROOST  AND  MISCELLANIES. 

forest,  and  dispersed  his  followers  to  rouse  the  game,  and 
drive  it  toward  his  stand.  He  had  not  been  here  long,  when  a 
cavalcade  of  Moors,  of  both  sexes,  came  prankling  over  the 
forest  lawn.  They  were  unarmed,  and  magnificently  dressed 
in  robes  of  tissue  and  embroidery,  rich  shawls  of  India,  brace 
lets  and  anklets  of  gold,  and  jewels  that  sparkled  in  the  sun. 

At  the  head  of  this  gay  cavalcade,  rode  a  youthful  cavalier, 
superior  to  the  rest  in  dignity  and  loftiness  of  demeanor,  and 
in  splendor  of  attire;  beside  him  was  a  damsel,  whose  veil, 
blown  aside  by  the  breeze,  displayed  a  face  of  surpassing 
beauty,  and  eyes  cast  down  in  maiden  modesty,  yet  beaming 
with  tenderness  and  joy. 

Don  Munio  thanked  his  stars  for  sending  him  such  a  prize, 
and  exulted  at  the  thought  of  bearing  home  to  his  wife  the 
glittering  spoils  of  these  infidels.  Putting  his  hunting-horn  to 
his  lips,  he  gave  a  blast  that  rung  through  the  forest.  His 
huntsmen  came  running  from  all  quarters,  and  the  astonished 
Moors  were  surrounded  and  made  captives. 

The  beautiful  Moor  wrung  her  hands  in  despair,  and  her 
female  attendants  uttered  the  most  piercing  cries.  The  young 
Moorish  cavalier  alone  retained  self-possession.  He  inquired 
the  name  of  the  Christian  knight,  who  commanded  this  troop 
of  horsemen.  When  told  that  it  was  Don  Munio  Snncho  de 
Hinojosa,  his  countenance  lighted  up.  Approaching  that 
cavalier,  and  kissing  his  hand,  "Don  Munio  Sancho,"  said  he, 
"  I  have  heard  of  your  fame  as  a  true  and  valiant  knight,  ter 
rible  in  arms,  but  schooled  in  the  noble  virtues  of  chivalry. 
Such  do  I  trust  to  find  you.  In  me  you  behold  Abadil,  son  of 
a  Moorish  Alcayde.  I  am  on  the  way  to  celebrate  my  nuptials 
with  this  lady ;  chance  has  thrown  us  in  your  power,  but  I 
confide  in  your  magnanimity.  Take  all  our  treasure  and 
jewels;  demand  what  ransom  you  think  proper  for  our  per 
sons,  but  suffer  us  not  to  be  insulted  or  dishonored." 

When  the  good  knight  heard  this  appeal,  and  beheld  the 
beauty  of  the  youthful  pair,  his  heart  was  touched  with  ten 
derness  and  courtesy.  "God  forbid,"  said  he,  "that  I  should 
disturb  such  happy  nuptials.  My  prisoners  in  troth  shall  ye 
be,  for  fifteen  days,  and  immured  within  my  castle,  where  I 
claim,  as  conqueror,  the  right  of  celebrating  your  espousals. " 

So  saying,  he  despatched  one  of  his  fleetest  horsemen  in 
advance,  to  notify  Donna  Maria  Palacin  of  the  coming  of  this 
bridal  party;  while  he  and  his  huntsmen  escorted  the  caval 
cade,  not  as  captors,  but  as  a  guard  of  honor.  As  they  drew 


SPANISH  ROMANCE.  83 

near  to  the  castle,  the  banners  were  hung  out,  and  the  trum 
pets  sounded  from  the  battlements;  and  on  their  nearer  ap 
proach,  the  draw-bridge  was  lowered,  and  Donna  Maria  came 
forth  to  meet  them,  attended  by  her  ladies  and  knights,  her 
pages  and  her  minstrels.  She  took  the  young  bride,  Allifra,  in 
her  arms,  kissed  her  with  the  tenderness  of  a  sister,  and  con 
ducted  her  into  the  castle.  In  the  mean  time,  Don  Munio  sent 
forth  missives  in  every  direction,  and  had  viands  and  dainties 
of  all  kinds  collected  from  the  country  round ;  and  the  wedding 
of  the  Moorish  lovers  was  celebrated  with  all  possible  state  and 
festivity.  For  fifteen  days,  the  castle  was  given  up  to  joy  and 
revelry.  There  were  til  tings  and  jousts  at  the  ring,  and  bull 
fights,  and  banquets,  and  dances  to  the  sound  of  minstrelsy. 
When  the  fifteen  days  were  at  an  end,  he  made  the  bride  and 
bridegroom  magnificent  presents,  and  conducted  them  and 
their  attendants  safely  beyond  the  borders.  Such,  in  old 
times,  were  the  courtesy  and  generosity  of  a  Spanish  cava 
lier. 

Several  years  after  this  event,  the  King  of  Castile  sum 
moned  his  nobles  to  assist  him  in  a  campaign  against  the 
Moors.  Don  Munio  Sancho  was  among  the  first  to  answer  to 
the  call,  with  seventy  horsemen,  all  staunch  and  well-tried 
warriors.  His  wife,  Donna  Maria,  hung  about  his  neck. 
"Alas,  my  lord!"  exclaimed  she,  "  how  of ten  wilt  thou  tempt 
thy  fate,  and  when  will  thy  thirst  for  glory  be  appeased !" 

"  One  battle  more,"  replied  Don  Munio,  "one  battle  more,  for 
the  honor  of  Castile,  and  I  here  make  a  vow,  that  when  this  is 
over,  I  will  lay  by  my  sword,  and  repair  with  my  cavaliers  in 
pilgrimage  to  the  sepulchre  of  our  Lord  at  Jerusalem."  The 
cavaliers  all  joined  with  him  in  the  vow,  and  Donna  Maria  felt 
in  some  degree  soothed  in  spirit :  still,  she  saw  with  a  heavy 
heart  the  departure  of  her  husband,  and  watched  his  banner 
with  wistful  eyes,  until  it  disappeared  among  the  trees  of  the 
forest. 

The  King  of  Castile  led  his  army  to  the  plains  of  Almanara, 
where  they  encountered  the  Moorish  host,  near  to  Ucles.  The 
battle  was  long  and  bloody  ;  the  Christians  repeatedly  wavered, 
and  were  as  often  rallied  by  the  energy  of  their  commanders. 
Don  Munio  was  covered  with  wounds,  but  refused  to  leave  the 
field.  The  Christians  at  length  gave  way,  and  the  king  was 
hardly  pressed,  and  in  danger  of  being  captured. 

Don  Munio  called  upon  his  cavaliers  to  follow  him  to  the 
rescue.  "Now  is  the  time,"  cried  he,  "  to  prove  your  loyalty 


84  WOLFERTS  ROOST  AND  MISCELLANIES. 

Fall  to,  like  brave  men !    We  fight  for  the  true  faith,  and  if  we 
lose  our  li ves  here,  we  gain  a  better  life  hereafter. " 

Rushing  with  his  men  between  the  king  and  his  pursuers, 
they  checked  the  latter  in  their  career,  and  gave  time  for  their 
monarch  to  escape;  but  they  fell  victims  to  their  loyalty. 
They  all  fought  to  the  last  gasp.  Don  Munio  was  singled  out 
by  a  powerful  Moorish  knight,  but  having  been  wounded  in 
the  right  arm,  he  fought  to  disadvantage,  and  was  slain.  The 
battle  being  over,  the  Moor  paused  to  possess  himself  of  the 
spoils  of  this  redoubtable  Christian  warrior.  When  he  unlaced 
the  helmet,  however,  and  beheld  the  countenance  of  Don 
Munio,  he  gave  a  great  cry,  and  smote  his  breast.  "Wo  is 
me!"  cried  he;  "I  have  slain  my  benefactor!  The  flower  of 
knightly  virtue !  the  most  magnanimous  of  cavaliers !" 


WHILE  the  battle  had  been  raging  on  the  plain  of  Salmanara, 
Donna  Maria  Palacin  remained  in  her  castle,  a  prey  to  the 
keenest  anxiety.  Her  eyes  were  ever  fixed  on  the  road  that 
led  from  the  country  of  the  Moors,  and  often  she  asked  the 
watchman  of  the  tower,  "  What  seest  thou?" 

One  evening,  at  the  shadowy  hour  of  twilight,  the  warden 
sounded  his  horn.  "  I  see,"  cried  he,  "  a  numerous  train  wind 
ing  up  the  valley.  There  are  mingled  Moors  and  Christians. 
The  banner  of  my  lord  is  in  the  advance.  Joyful  tidings !"  ex 
claimed  the  old  seneschal:  "my  lord  returns  in  triumph,  and 
brings  captives !"  Then  the  castle  courts  rang  with  shouts  of 
joy ;  and  the  standard  was  displayed,  and  the  trumpets  were 
sounded,  and  the  draw-bridge  was  lowered,  and  Donna  Maria 
went  forth  with  her  ladies,  and  her  knights,  and  her  pages, 
and  her  minstrels,  to  welcome  her  lord  from  the  wars.  But  as 
the  train  drew  nigh,  she  beheld  a  sumptuous  bier,  covered  with 
black  velvet,  and  on  it  lay  a  warrior,  as  if  taking  his  repose: 
he  lay  in  his  armor,  with  his  helmet  on  his  head,  and  his 
sword  in  his  hand,  as  one  who  had  never  been  conquered,  and 
around  the  bier  were  the  escutcheons  of  the  house  of  Hinojosa. 

A  number  of  Moorish  cavaliers  attended  the  bier,  with  em 
blems  of  mourning,  and  with  dejected  countenances :  and  their 
leader  cast  himself  at  the  feet  of  Donna  Maria,  and  hid  his  face 
in  his  hands.  She  beheld  in  him  the  gallant  Abadil,  whom  she 
had  once  welcomed  with  his  bride  to  her  castle,  but  who  now 
came  with  the  body  of  her  lord,  whom  he  had  unknowingly 
slain  in  battle  I 


SPANISH  ROMANCE.  85 

THE  sepulchre  erected  in  the  cloisters  of  the  Convent  of  San 
Domingo  was  achieved  at  the  expense  of  the  Moor  Abadil,  as 
a  feeble  testimony  of  his  grief  for  the  death  of  the  good  knight 
Don  Munio,  and  his  reverence  for  his  memory.  The  tender 
and  faithful  Donna  Maria  soon  followed  her  lord  to  the  tomb. 
On  one  of  the  stones  of  a  small  arch,  beside  his  sepulchre,  is 
the  following  simple  inscription :  ' '  Hie  jacet  Maria  Palacin, 
uxor  Munonis  Sancij  de  Finojosa :"  Here  lies  Maria  Palacin, 
wife  of  Munio  Sancho  de  Hinojosa. 

The  legend  of  Don  Munio  Sancho  does  not  conclude  with  his 
death.  On  the  same  day  on  which  the  battle  took  place  on  the 
plain  of  Salmanara,  a  chaplain  of  the  Holy  Temple  at  Jerusa 
lem,  while  standing  at  the  outer  gate,  beheld  a  train  of  Chris 
tian  cavaliers  advancing,  as  if  in  pilgrimage.  The  chaplain 
was  a  native  of  Spain,  and  as  the  pilgrims  approached,  he 
knew  the  foremost  to  be  Don  Munio  Sancho  de  Hinojosa,  with 
whom  he  had  been  well  acquainted  in  former  tunes.  Hasten 
ing  to  the  patriarch,  he  told  him  of  the  honorable  rank  of  the 
pilgrims  at  the  gate.  The  patriarch,  therefore,  went  forth 
with  a  grand  procession  of  priests  and  monks,  and  received 
the  pilgrims  with  all  due  honor.  There  were  seventy  cava 
liers,  beside  their  leader,  all  stark  and  lofty  warriors.  They 
carried  their  helmets  in  their  hands,  and  their  faces  were 
deadly  pale.  They  greeted  no  one,  nor  looked  either  to  the 
right  or  to  the  left,  but  entered  the  chapel,  and  kneeling  be 
fore  the  Sepulchre  of  our  Saviour,  performed  their  orisons  in 
silence.  When  they  had  concluded,  they  rose  as  if  to  depart, 
and  the  patriarch  and  his  attendants  advanced  to  speak  to 
them,  but  they  were  no  more  to  be  seen.  Every  one  mar 
velled  what  could  be  the  meaning  of  this  prodigy.  The  patri 
arch  carefully  noted  down  the  day,  and  sent  to  Castile  to  learn 
tidings  of  Don  Munio  Sancho  de  Hinojosa.  He  received  for 
reply,  that  on  the  very  day  specified,  that  worthy  knight,  with 
seventy  of  his  followers,  had  been  slain  in  battle.  These, 
therefore,  must  have  been  the  blessed  spirits  of  those  Chris 
tian  warriors,  come  to  fulfil  their  vow  of  a  pilgrimage  to  the 
Holy  Sepulchre  at  Jerusalem.  Such  was  Castilian  faith,  in 
the  olden  time,  which  kept  its  word,  even  beyond  the  grave. 

If  any  one  should  doubt  of  the  miraculous  apparition  of 
these  phantom  knights,  let  him  consult  the  History  of  the 
Kings  of  Castile  and  Leon,  by  the  learned  and  pious  Fray 
Prudencio  de  Sandoval,  Bishop  of  Pamplona,  where  he  vr!!l 
find  it  recorded  in  the  History  of  the  King  Don  Alonzo  YI. ,  en 


86  WOLFERT8  ROOST  AND  MISCELLANIES. 

the  hundred  and  second  page.    It  is  too  precious  a  legend  to 
be  lightly  abandoned  to  the  doubter. 


COMMUNIPAW. 

TO  THE  EDITOR  OF  THE  KNICKERBOCKER. 

SIR  :  I  observe,  with  pleasure,  that  you  are  performing  from 
time  to  time  a  pious  duty,  imposed  upon  you,  I  may  say,  by 
the  name  you  have  adopted  as  your  titular  standard,  in  fol 
lowing  in  the  footsteps  of  the  venerable  KNICKERBOCKER,  and 
Cleaning  every  fact  concerning  the  early  times  of  the  Manhat- 
toes  which  may  have  escaped  his  hand.  I  trust,  therefore,  a 
few  particulars,  legendary  and  statistical,  concerning  a  place 
which  figures  conspicuously  in  the  early  pages  of  his  history, 
will  not  be  unacceptable.  I  allude,  Sir,  to  the  ancient  and 
renowned  village  of  Communipaw,  which,  according  to  the 
veracious  Diedrich,  and  to  equally  veracious  tradition,  was 
the  first  spot  where  our  ever-to-be-lamented  Dutch  progeni 
tors  planted  their  standard  and  cast  the  seeds  of  empire,  and 
from  whence  subsequently  sailed  the  memorable  expedition 
under  Oloffe  the  Dreamer,  which  landed  on  the  opposite  island 
of  Manhatta,  and  founded  the  present  city  of  New- York,  the 
city  of  dreams  and  speculations. 

Communipaw,  therefore,  may  truly  be  called  the  parent  of 
New- York ;  yet  it  is  an  astonishing  fact,  that  though  immedi 
ately  opposite  to  the  great  city  it  has  produced,  from  whence 
its  red  roofs  and  tin  weather-cocks  can  actually  be  descried 
peering  above  the  surrounding  apple  orchards,  it  should  bo 
almost  as  rarely  visited,  and  as  little  known  by  the  inhabi 
tants  of  the  metropolis,  as  if  it  had  been  locked  up  among  the 
Rocky  Mountains.  Sir,  I  think  there  is  something  unnatural 
in  this,  especially  in  these  times  of  ramble  and  research,  when 
our  citizens  are  antiquity-hunting  in  every  part  of  the  world. 
Curiosity,  like  charity,  should  begin  at  home;  and  I  would 
enjoin  it  on  our  worthy  burghers,  especially  those  of  the  real 
Knickerbocker  breed,  before  they  send  their  sons  abroad  to 
wonder  and  grow  wise  among  the  remains  of  Greece  and 
Rome,  to  let  them  make  a  tour  of  ancient  Pavonia,  from  Wee- 
hawk  even  to  the  Kills,  and  meditate,  with  filial  reverence,  ou 
tiic  moss-grown  mansions  of  Communipaw. 


COMMUNIPAW.  87 

Sir,  I  regard  this  much-neglected  village  as  one  of  the  most 
remarkable  places  in  the  country.  The  intelligent  traveller 
as  he  looks  down  upon  it  from  the  Bergen  Heights,  modestly 
nestled  among  its  cabbage-gardens,  while  the  great  flaunting 
city  it  has  begotten  is  stretching  far  and  wide  on  the  opposite 
side  of  the  bay,  the  intelligent  traveller,  I  say,  will  be  filled  with 
astonishment ;  not,  Sir,  at  the  village  of  Communipaw,  which 
in  truth  is  a  very  small  village,  but  at  the  almost  incredible 
fact  that  so  small  a  village  should  have  produced  so  great  a 
city.  It  looks  to  him,  indeed,  like  some  squat  little  dame, 
with  a  tall  grenadier  of  a  son  strutting  by  her  side ;  or  some 
simple-hearted  hen  that  has  unwittingly  hatched  out  a  long- 
legged  turkey. 

But  this  is  not  all  for  which  Communipaw  is  remarkable. 
Sir,  it  is  interesting  on  another  account.  It  is  to  the  ancient 
province  of  the  New-Netherlands  and  the  classic  era  of  the 
Dutch  dynasty,  what  Herculaneum  and  Pompeii  are  to  an 
cient  Eome  and  the  glorious  days  of  the  empire.  Here  every 
thing  remains  in  statu  quo,  as  it  was  in  the  days  of  Oloffe  the 
Dreamer,  Walter  the  Doubter,  and  the  other  worthies  of  the 
golden  age ;  the  same  broad -brimmed  hats  and  broad-bottomed 
breeches;  the  same  knee-buckles  and  shoe-buckles;  the  same 
close-quilled  caps  and  linsey-woolsey  short-gowns  and  petti 
coats  ;  the  same  implements  and  utensils  and  forms  and  fash 
ions  ;  in  a  word,  Communipaw  at  the  present  day  is  a  picture 
of  what  New- Amsterdam  was  before  the  conquest.  The  "in 
telligent  traveller"  aforesaid,  as  he  treads  its  streets,  is  struck 
fcdth  the  primitive  character  of  every  thing  around  him.  In 
stead  of  Grecian  temples  for  dwelling-houses,  with  a  great 
column  of  pine  boards  in  the  way  of  every  window,  he  beholds 
high  peaked  roofs,  gable  ends  to  the  street,  with  weather-cocks 
at  top,  and  windows  of  all  sorts  and  sizes ;  large  ones  for  the 
grown-up  members  of  the  family,  and  little  ones  for  the  little 
folk.  Instead  of  cold  marble  porches,  with  close-locked  doors 
and  brass  knockers,  he  sees  the  doors  hospitably  open;  the 
worthy  burgher  smoking  his  pipe  on  the  old-fashioned  stoop 
in  front,  with  his  ' '  vrouw"  knitting  beside  him ;  and  the  cat 
and  her  kittens  at  their  feet  sleeping  in  the  sunshine. 

Astonished  at  the  obsolete  and  "old  world  "  air  of  every  thing 
around  him,  the  intelligent  traveller  demands  how  all  this  has 
come  to  pass.  Herculaneum  and  Pompeii  remain,  it  is  true, 
unaffected  by  the  varying  fashions  of  centuries ;  but  they  were 
buried  by  a  volcano  and  preserved  in  ashes.  What  charmed 


88  WOLFERTS  ROOST  AND  MISCELLANIE, 

spell  has  kept  this  wonderful  tittle  place  unchanged,  though  in 
Bight  of  the  most  changeful  city  in  the  universe?  Has  it,  too, 
been  buried  under  its  cabbage-gardens,  and  only  dug  out  in 
modern  days  for  the  wonder  and  edification  of  the  world?  The 
reply  involves  a  point  of  history,  worthy  of  notice  and  record, 
and  reflecting  immortal  honor  on  Communipaw. 

At  the  time  when  New- Amsterdam  was  invaded  and  con 
quered  by  British  foes,  as  has  been  related  in  the  history  of  tho 
venerable  Diedrich,  a  great  dispersion  took  place  among  the 
Dutch  inhabitants.  Many,  like  the  illustrious  Peter  Stuyvcs- 
ant,  buried  themselves  in  rural  retreats  in  the  Bowerie ;  others, 
like  Wolfert  Acker,  took  refuge  in  various  remote  parts  cf  tho 
Hudson ;  but  there  was  one  staunch,  unconquerable  band  that 
determined  to  keep  together,  and  preserve  themselves,  liko 
seed  corn,  for  the  future  fructification  and  perpetuity  of  the 
Knickerbocker  race.  These  were  headed  by  one  Garret  Van 
Home,  a  gigantic  Dutchman,  the  Pelayo  of  the  New-Nether 
lands.  Under  his  guidance,  they  retreated  across  the  bay  and 
buried  themselves  among  the  marshes  of  ancient  Pavonia,  as 
did  the  followers  of  Pelayo  among  the  mountains  of  Asturias, 
when  Spain  was  overrun  by  its  Arabian  invaders. 

The  gallant  Van  Home  set  up  his  standard  at  Communipaw, 
and  invited  all  those  to  rally  under  it,  who  were  true  Neder- 
landers  at  heart,  and  determined  to  resist  all  foreign  intermix 
ture  or  encroachment.  A  strict  non-intercourse  was  observed 
with  the  captured  city;  not  a  boat  ever  crossed  to  it  from 
Communipaw,  and  the  English  language  was  rigorously  tabooed 
throughout  the  village  and  its  dependencies.  Every  man  was 
sworn  to  wear  his  hat,  cut  his  coat,  build  his  house,  and  har 
ness  his  horses,  exactly  as  his  father  had  done  before  him ;  and 
to  por^ait  nothing  but  the  Dutch  language  to  be  spoken  in  his 
household. 

As  a  citadel  of  the  place,  and  a  strong-hold  for  the  preserva 
tion  and  defence  of  every  thing  Dutch,  the  gallant  Van  Home 
erected  a  lordly  mansion,  with  a  chimney  perched  at  every 
corner,  which  thence  derived  the  aristocratical  name  of  "  The 
House  of  the  Four  Chimneys."  Hither  he  transferred  many  of 
the  precious  reliques  of  New- Amsterdam ;  the  great  round- 
crowned  hat  that  once  covered  the  capacious  head  of  Wal 
ter  the  Doubter,  and  the  identical  shoe  with  which  Peter  the 
Headstrong  kicked  his  pusillanimous  councillors  down-stairs. 
St.  Nicholas,  it  is  said,  took  this  loyal  house  under  his  especial 
protection;  and  a  Dutch  soothsayer  predicted,  that  as  long  as 


COMMUNIPAW.  89 

it  should  stand,  CommunipaAV  would  be  safe  from  the  intrusion 
either  of  Briton  or  Yankee. 

In  this  house  would  the  gallant  Van  Home  and  his  compeers 
hold  frequent  councils  of  war,  as  to  the  possibility  of  re-conquer 
ing  the  province  from  the  British ;  and  here  would  they  sit 
for  hours,  nay,  days,  together  smoking  their  pipes  and  keeping 
watch  upon  the  growing  city  of  New- York ;  groaning  in  spirit 
whenever  they  saw  a  new  house  erected  or  ship  launched,  and 
persuading  themselves  that  Admiral  Van  Tromp  would  one  day 
or  other  arrive  to  sweep  out  the  invaders  with  the  broom  which 
he  carried  at  his  mast-head. 

Years  rolled  by,  but  Van  Tromp  never  arrived.  The  British 
strengthened  themselves  in  the  land,  and  the  captured  city 
flourished  under  their  domination.  Still,  the  worthies  of  Com- 
munipaw  would  not  despair;  something  or  other,  they  were 
sure,  would  turn  up  to  restore  the  power  of  the  Hogen  Mogens, 
the  Lord  States-General ;  so  they  kept  smoking  and  smoking, 
and  watching  and  watching,  and  turning  the  same  few  thoughts 
over  and  over  in  a  perpetual  circle,  which  is  commonly  called 
deliberating.  In  the  mean  time,  being  hemmed  up  within  a 
narrow  compass,  between  the  broad  bay  and  the  Bergen  hills, 
they  grew  poorer  and  poorer,  until  they  had  scarce  the  where 
withal  to  maintain  their  pipes  in  fuel  during  their  endless 
deliberations. 

And  now  must  I  relate  a  circumstance  which  will  call  for  a  little 
exertion  of  faith  on  the  part  of  the  reader ;  but  I  can  only  say 
that  if  he  doubts  it,  he  had  better  not  utter  his  doubts  in  Com- 
munipaw,  as  it  is  among  the  religious  belief  s  of  the  place.  It  is, 
in  fact,  nothing  more  nor  less  than  a  miracle,  worked  by  the 
blessed  St.  Nicholas,  for  the  relief  and  sustenance  of  this  loyal 
community. 

It  so  happened,  in  this  time  of  extremity,  that  in  the  course 
of  cleaning  the  House  of  the  Four  Chimneys,  by  an  ignorant 
housewife  who  knew  nothing  of  the  historic  value  of  the  rel- 
iques  it  contained,  the  old  hat  of  Walter  the  Doubter  and  the 
executive  shoe  of  Peter  the  Headstrong  were  thrown  out  of 
doors  as  rubbish.  But  mark  the  consequence.  The  good  St. 
Nicholas  kept  watch  over  these  precious  reliques,  and  wrought 
out  of  them  a  wonderful  providence. 

The  hat  of  Walter  the  Doubter  falling  on  a  stercoraceous 
heap  of  compost,  in  the  rear  of  the  house,  began  forthwith  to 
vegetate.  Its  broad  brim  spread  forth  grandly  and  exfoliated, 
and  its  round  crown  swelled  and  crimped  and  consolidated 


90  WOLFERTS  ROOST  A^7D  MISCELLANIES. 

until  the  whole  became  a  prodigious  cabbage,  rivalling  in  mag 
nitude  the  capacious  head  of  the  Doubter.  In  a  word,  it  was 
the  origin  of  that  renowned  species  of  cabbage  known,  by  all 
Dutch  epicures,  by  the  name  of  the  Governor's  Head,  and 
which  is  to  this  day  the  glory  of  Communipaw. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  shoe  of  Peter  Stuy  vesant  being  thrown 
into  the  river,  in  front  of  the  house,  gradually  hardened  and 
concreted,  and  became  covered  with  barnacles,  and  at  length 
turned  into  a  gigantic  oyster,  being  the  progenitor  of  that  illus 
trious  species  known  throughout  the  gastronomical  world  by 
the  name  of  the  Governor's  Foot. 

These  miracles  were  the  salvation  of  Communipaw.  The 
sages  of  the  place  immediately  saw  in  them  the  hand  of  St. 
Nicholas,  and  understood  their  mystic  signification.  They  set 
to  work  with  all  diligence  to  cultivate  and  multiply  these  great 
blessings;  and  so  abundantly  did  the  gubernatorial  hat  and 
shoe  fructify  and  increase,  that  in  a  little  time  great  patches  of 
cabbages  were  to  be  seen  extending  from  the  village  of  Com 
munipaw  quite  to  the  Bergen  Hills ;  while  the  whole  bottom  of 
the  bay  in  front  became  a  vast  bed  of  oysters.  Ever  since  that 
time  this  excellent  community  has  been  divided  into  two  great 
classes :  those  who  cultivate  the  land  and  those  who  cultivate  the 
water.  The  former  have  devoted  themselves  to  the  nurture 
and  edification  of  cabbages,  rearing  them  in  all  their  varieties ; 
while  the  latter  have  formed  parks  and  plantations,  under 
water,  to  which  juvenile  oysters  are  transplanted  from  foreign 
parts,  to  finish  their  education. 

As  these  great  sources  of  profit  multiplied  upon  their  hands, 
the  worthy  inhabitants  of  Communipaw  began  to  long  for  a 
market  at  which  to  dispose  of  their  superabundance.  This 
gradually  produced  once  more  an  intercourse  with  New- York ; 
but  it  was  always  carried  on  by  the  old  people  and  the  negroes; 
never  would  they  permit  the  young  folks,  of  either  sex,  to  visit 
the  city,  lest  they  should  get  tainted  with  foreign  manners  and 
bring  home  foreign  fashions.  Even  to  thi?  day,  if  you  see  an 
old  burgher  in  the  market,  with  hat  and  garb  of  antique  Dutch 
fashion,  you  may  be  sure  he  is  one  of  the  old  unconquered  race 
of  the  "  bitter  blood,"  who  maintain  their  strong-hold  at  Com 
munipaw. 

In  modern  days,  the  hereditary  bitterness  against  the  English 
has  lost  much  of  its  asperity,  or  rather  has  become  merged  in 
a  new  source  of  jealousy  and  apprehension :  I  allude  to  the  inces 
sant  and  wide-spreading  irruptions  from  New-England.  Word 


COmiUNIPAW.  91 

1' a?  Teen  continually  brought  back  to  Communipaw,  by  those 
of  the  community  who  return  from  their  trading  voyages  in 
cabbages  and  oysters,  of  the  alarming  power  which  the  Yan 
kees  are  gaining  in  the  ancient  city  of  New -Amsterdam ;  elbow 
ing  the  genuine  Knickerbockers  out  of  all  civic  posts  of  honor 
and  profit;  bargaining  them  out  of  their  hereditary  home 
steads;  pulling  down  the  venerable  houses,  with  crow-step 
gables,  which  have  stood  since  the  time  of  the  Dutch  rule, 
and  erecting,  instead,  granite  stores,  and  marble  banks;  in 
a  word,  evincing  a  deadly  determination  to  obliterate  every 
vestige  of  the  good  old  Dutch  times. 

In  consequence  of  the  jealousy  thus  awakened,  the  worthy 
traders  from  Communipaw  confine  their  dealings,  as  much  as 
possible,  to  the  genuine  Dutch  families.  If  they  furnish  the 
Yankees  at  all,  it  is  with  inferior  articles.  Never  can  the  latter 
procure  a  real  "Governor's  Head,"  or  "Governor's  Foot," 
though  they  have  offered  extravagant  prices  for  the  same, 
to  grace  their  table  on  the  annual  festival  of  the  New-England 
Society. 

But  what  has  carried  this  hostility  to  the  Yankees  to  the 
highest  pitch,  was  an  attempt  made  by  that  all-pervading  race 
to  get  possession  of  Communipaw  itself.  Yes,  Sir ;  during  the 
late  mania  for  land  speculation,  a  daring  company  of  Yankee 
projectors  landed  before  the  village ;  stopped  the  honest  burgh 
ers  on  the  public  highway,  and  endeavored  to  bargain  them 
out  of  their  hereditary  acres ;  displayed  lithographic  maps,  in 
which  their  cabbage-gardens  were  laid  out  into  town  lots ;  their 
oyster-parks  into  docks  and  quays ;  and  even  the  House  of  the 
Four  Chimneys  metamorphosed  into  a  bank,  which  was  to 
enrich  the  whole  neighborhood  with  paper  money. 

Fortunately,  the  gallant  Van  Homes  came  to  the  rescue,  just 
as  some  of  the  worthy  burghers  were  on  the  point  of  capitulat 
ing.  The  Yankees  were  put  to  the  rout,  with  signal  confusion, 
and  have  never  since  dared  to  show  their  faces  in  the  place. 
The  good  people  continue  to  cultivate  their  cabbages,  and  rear 
>  lieir  oysters ;  they  know  nothing  of  banks,  nor  joint  stock  com 
panies,  but  treasure  up  their  money  in  stocking-feet,  at  the 
bottom  of  the  family  chest,  or  bury  it  in  iron  pots,  as  did  their 
fathers  and  grandfathers  before  them. 

As  to  the  House  of  the  Four  Chimneys,  it  still  remains  in  the 
great  and  tall  family  of  the  Van  Homes.  Here  are  to  be  seen 
ancient  Dutch  corner  cupboards,  chests  of  drawers,  and  mas 
sive  clothes-presses,  quaintly  carved,  and  carefully  waxed  and 


92  WOLFERTS  liUOST  AXD  MISCELLANIES. 

polished ;  together  with  divers  thick,  black-letter  volumes,  with 
brass  clasps,  printed  of  yore  in  Leyden  and  Amsterdam,  and 
handed  down  from  generation  to  generation,  in  the  family,  but 
never  read.  They  are  preserved  in  the  archives,  among  sun 
dry  old  parchment  deeds,  in  Dutch  and  English,  bearing  the 
seals  of  the  early  governors  of  the  province. 

In  this  house,  the  primitive  Dutch  holidays  of  Paas  and 
I'luxter  are  faithfully  kept  up;  and  New- Year  celebrated  with 
cookies  and  cherry-bounce ;  nor  is  the  festival  of  the  blessed 
St.  Nicholas  forgotten,  when  all  the  children  are  sure  to  hang 
up  their  stockings,  and  to  have  them  filled  according  to  their 
deserts;  though,  it  is  said,  the  good  saint  is  occasionally  per 
plexed  in  his  nocturnal  visits,  which  chimney  to  descend. 

Of  late,  this  portentous  mansion  has  begun  to  give  signs  of 
dilapidation  and  decay.  Some  have  attributed  this  to  the 
visits  made  by  the  young  people  to  the  city,  and  their  bringing 
thence  various  modem  fashions;  and  to  their  neglect  of  the 
Dutch  language,  which  is  gradually  becoming  confined  to  the 
older  persons  in  the  community.  The  house,  too,  was  greatly 
shaken  by  high  winds,  during  the  prevalence  of  the  speculation 
mania,  especially  at  the  time  of  the  landing  of  the  Yankees. 
Seeing  how  mysteriously  the  fate  of  Communipaw  is  identified 
with  this  venerable  mansion,  we  cannot  wonder  that  the  older 
and  wiser  heads  of  the  community  should  be  filled  with  dismay, 
whenever  a  brick  is  toppled  down  from  one  of  the  chimneys,  or 
a  weather-cock  is  blown  off  from  a  gable-end. 

The  present  lord  of  this  historic  pile,  I  am  happy  to  say,  is 
calculated  to  maintain  it  in  all  its  integrity.  He  is  of  patri 
archal  age,  and  is  worthy  of  the  days  of  the  patriarchs.  He 
has  done  his  utmost  to  increase  and  multiply  the  true  race  in 
the  land.  His  wife  has  not  been  inferior  to  him  in  zeal,  and 
they  are  surrounded  by  a  goodly  progeny  of  children,  and 
grand-children,  and  great-grand-children,  who  promise  to  per 
petuate  the  name  of  Van  Home,  until  time  shall  be  no  more. 
So  be  it !  Long  may  the  horn  of  the  Van  Homes  continue  to 
be  exalted  in  the  land !  Tall  as  they  are,  may  their  shadows 
never  be  less !  May  the  House  of  the  Four  Chimneys  remain 
for  ages,  the  citadel  of  Communipaw,  and  the  smoke  of  its 
chimneys  continue  to  ascend,  a  sweet-smelling  incense  in  the 
nose  of  St.  Nicholas  I 

With  great  respect,  Mr.  Editor, 

Your  ob't  servant, 

HKRMANUS  VANDKRDONK. 


CONSPIRACY  OF  THE  COCKED  HATS.  93 

CONSPIRACY   OF  THE  COCKED   HATS. 

TO  THE  EDITOR  OF  THE  KNICKERBOCKER. 

SIR  :  I  have  read  with  great  satisfaction  the  valuable  paper 
of  your  correspondent,  Mr.  HERMANUS  VANDERDONK,  (who,  I 
take  it,  is  a  descendant  of  the  learned  Adrian  Vanderdonk,  one 
of  the  early  historians  of  the  Nieuw  Nederlands,)  giving  sundry 
particulars,  legendary  and  statistical,  touching  the  venerable 
village  of  Communipaw  and  its  fate-bound  citadel,  the  House 
of  the  Four  Chimneys.  It  goes  to  prove  what  I  have  repeatedly 
maintained,  that  we  live  in  the  midst  of  history  and  mystery 
and  romance ;  and  that  there  is  no  spot  in  the  world  more  rich 
in  themes  for  the  writer  of  historic  novels,  heroic  melodramas, 
and  rough-shod  epics,  than  this  same  business-looking  city  of 
the  Manhattoes  and  its  environs.  He  who  would  find  these 
elements,  however,  must  not  seek  them  among  the  modern 
improvements  and  modern  people  of  this  moneyed  metropolis, 
but  must  dig  for  them,  as  for  Kidd  the  pirate's  treasures,  in 
out-of-the-way  places,  and  among  the  ruins  of  the  past. 

Poetry  and  romance  received  a  fatal  blow  at  the  overthrow  of 
the  ancient  Dutch  dynasty,  and  have  ever  since  been  gradually 
withering  under  the  growing  domination  of  the  Yankees.  They 
abandoned  our  hearths  when  the  old  Dutch  tiles  were  super 
seded  by  marble  chimney-pieces ;  when  brass  andirons  made 
way  for  polished  grates,  and  the  crackling  and  blazing  fire  of 
nut-wood  gave  place  to  the  smoke  and  stench  of  Liverpool 
coal;  and  on  the  downfah1  of  the  last  gable-end  house,  their 
requiem  was  toUed  from  the  tower  of  the  Dutch  church  in 
Nassau-street  by  the  old  bell  that  came  from  HoUand.  But 
poetry  and  romance  still  live  unseen  among  us,  or  seen  only  by 
the  enlightened  few,  who  are  able  to  contemplate  this  city  and 
its  environs  through  the  medium  of  tradition,  and  clothed  with 
the  associations  of  foregone  ages. 

Would  you  seek  these  elements  in  the  country,  Mr.  Editor, 
avoid  all  turnpikes,  rail-roads,  and  steamboats,  those  abomina 
ble  inventions  by  which  the  usurping  Yankees  are  strengthen 
ing  themselves  in  the  land,  and  subduing  every  thing  to  utility 
and  common-place.  Avoid  all  towns  and  cities  of  white  clap 
board  palaces  and  Grecian  temples,  studded  with  "Academies," 
"Seminaries,"  and  "Institutes,"  which  glisten  along  our  bays 


04  WOLFERTS  ROOST  AND  MTSCELLAN1ES. 

and  rivers;  these  are  the  strong-holds  of  Yankee  usurpation; 
but  if  haply  you  light  upon  some  rough,  rambling  road,  wind 
ing  between  stone  fences,  gray  with  moss,  and  overgrown  with 
elder,  poke-berry,  mullein,  and  sweet-briar,  with  here  and 
there  a  low,  red-roofed,  whitewashed  farm-house,  cowering 
among  apple  and  cherry  trees ;  an  old  stone  church,  with  elms, 
|  willows,  and  button- woods,  as  old-looking  as  itself,  and  tomb 
stones  almost  buried  in  their  own  graves ;  and,  peradventure, 
a  small  log  school-house  at  a  cross-road,  where  the  English  is 
still  taught  with  a  thickness  of  the  tongue,  instead  of  a  twang 
of  the  nose ;  should  you,  I  say,  light  upon  such  a  neighborhood, 
Mr.  Editor,  you  may  thank  your  stare  that  you  have  found  one 
of  the  lingering  haunts  of  poetry  and  romance. 

Your  correspondent,  Sir,  has  touched  upon  that  sublime  and 
affecting  feature  in  the  history  of  Communipaw,  the  retreat  of 
the  patriotic  band  of  Noderlanders,  led  by  Van  Home,  whom 
he  justly  terms  the  Pelayo  of  the  New-Netherlands.  He  has 
given  you  a  picture  of  the  manner  in  which  they  ensconced 
themselves  in  the  House  of  the  Four  Chimneys,  and  awaited 
with  heroic  patience  and  perseverance  the  day  that  should  see 
the  flag  of  the  Hogen  Mogens  once  more  floating  on  the  fort  of 
New- Amsterdam. 

Your  correspondent,  Sir,  has  but  given  you  a  glimpse  over 
the  threshold ;  I  will  now  let  you  into  the  heart  of  the  mystery 
of  this  most  mysterious  and  eventful  village.  Yes,  sir,  I  will 
now 

"unclasp  a  secret  book; 

And  to  your  quick  conceiving  discontents, 
I'll  read  you  matter  deep  and  dangerous, 
As  full  of  peril  and  adventurous  spirit, 
As  to  o'er  walk  a  current,  roaring  loud, 
On  the  unsteadfast  footing  of  a  spear." 

Sir,  it  is  one  of  the  most  beautiful  and  interesting  facts  con 
nected  with  the  history  of  Communipaw,  that  the  early  feel 
ing  of  resistance  to  foreign  rule,  alluded  to  by  your  corre 
spondent,  is  still  kept  up.  Yes,  sir,  a  settled,  secret,  and  deter 
mined  conspiracy  has  been  going  on  for  generations  among 
this  indomitable  people,  the  descendants  of  the  refugees  from 
New- Amsterdam ;  the  object  of  which  is  to  redeem  their  an 
cient  seat  of  empire,  and  to  drive  the  losel  Yankees  out  of  the 
land. 

Communipaw,  it  is  true,  has  the  glory  of  originating  this 
conspiracy;  and  it  was  hatched  and  reared  in  the  House  of  the 
Four  Chimneys ;  but  it  has  spread  far  and  wide  over  ancient 


CONSPIRACY  OF  THE  COCKED  HATS.  95 

Favonia,  surmounted  the  heights  of  Bergen,  Hoboken,  and 
Weehawk,  crept  up  along  the  banks  of  the  Passaic  and  the 
riackensack,  until  it  pervades  the  whole  chivalry  of  the  coun 
try  from  Tappan  Slote  in  the  north  to  Piscataway  in  the  south, 
including  the  pugnacious  village  of  Rahway,  more  heroically 
denominated  Spank-town. 

Throughout  all  these  regions  a  great ' '  in-and-in  confederacy" 
prevails,  that  is  to  say,  a  confederacy  among  the  Dutch  fami 
lies,  by  dint  of  diligent  and  exclusive  intermarriage,  to  keep 
the  race  pure  and  to  multiply.  If  ever,  Mr.  Editor,  in  the 
course  of  your  travels  between  Spank-town  and  Tappan  Slote, 
you  should  see  a  cosey,  low-eaved  farm-house,  teeming  with 
sturdy,  broad-built  little  urchins,  you  may  set  it  down  as  one 
of  the  breeding  places  of  this  grand  secret  confederacy,  stocked 
with  the  embryo  deliverers  of  New- Amsterdam. 

Another  step  in  the  progress  of  this  patriotic  conspiracy,  is 
the  establishment,  in  various  places  within  the  ancient  boun 
daries  of  the  Nieuw-Nederlands,  of  secret,  or  rather  mysterious 
associations,  composed  of  the  genuine  sons  of  the  Nederlanders, 
with  the  ostensible  object  of  keeping  up  the  memory  of  old 
times  and  customs,  but  with  the  real  object  of  promoting  the 
views  of  this  dark  and  mighty  plot,  and  extending  its  ramifi 
cations  throughout  the  land. 

Sir,  I  am  descended  from  a  long  line  of  genuine  Nederland 
ers,  who,  though  they  remained  in  the  city  of  New- Amsterdam 
after  the  conquest,  and  throughout  the  usurpation,  have  never 
hi  their  hearts  been  able  to  tolerate  the  yoke  imposed  upon 
them.  My  worthy  father,  who  was  one  of  the  last  of  the 
cocked  hats,  had  a  little  knot  of  cronies,  of  his  own  stamp,  who 
used  to  meet  in  our  wainscoted  parlor,  round  a  nut-wood  fire, 
talk  over  old  times,  when  the  city  was  ruled  by  its  native 
burgomasters,  and  groan  over  the  monopoly  of  all  places  of 
power  and  profit  by  the  Yankees.  I  well  recollect  the  effect 
upon  this  worthy  little  conclave,  when  the  Yankees  first  insti 
tuted  their  New-England  Society,  held  their  "national  festival," 
toasted  their  "  father  land,"  and  sang  their  foreign  songs  of  tri 
umph  within  the  very  precincts  of  our  ancient  metropolis. 
Sir,  from  that  day,  my  father  held  the  smell  of  codfish  and  po 
tatoes,  and  the  sight  of  pumpkin  pie,  in  utter  abomination; 
and  whenever  the  annual  dinner  of  the  New-England  Society 
came  round,  it  was  a  sore  anniversary  for  his  children.  He 
got  up  in  an  ill  humor,  grumbled  and  growled  throughout  the 
day,  and  not  one  of  us  went  to  bed  that  night,  without  having 


96          WOLFERT'S  ROOST  AND  MISCELLANIES. 

had  his  jacket  well  trounced,  to  the  tune  of  "  The  Pilgrim 
Fathers." 

You  may  judge,  then,  Mr.  Editor,  of  the  exaltation  of  all 
true  patriots  of  this  stamp,  when  the  Society  of  Saint  Nich 
olas  was  set  up  among  us,  and  intrepidly  established,  cheek  by 
jole,  alongside  of  the  society  of  the  invaders.  Never  shall  I 
forget  the  effect  upon  my  father  and  his  little  knot  of  brother 
groaners,  when  tidings  were  brought  them  that  the  ancient 
banner  of  the  Manhattoes  was  actually  floating  from  the  win 
dow  of  the  City  Hotel.  Sir,  they  nearly  jumped  out  of  their 
silver-buckled  shoes  for  joy.  They  took  down  their  cocked 
hats  from  the  pegs  on  which  they  had  hanged  them,  as  the 
Israelites  of  yore  hung  their  harps  upon  the  willows,  in  token 
of  bondage,  clapped  them  resolutely  once  more  upon  their 
heads,  and  cocked  them  in  the  face  of  every  Yankee  they  met 
on  the  way  to  the  banqueting-room. 

The  institution  of  this  society  was  hailed  with  transport 
throughout  the  whole  extent  of  the  New-Netherlands  ;  being 
considered  a  secret  foothold  gained  in  New- Amsterdam,  and  a 
flattering  presage  of  future  triumph.  Whenever  that  society 
holds  its  annual  feast,  a  sympathetic  hilarity  prevails  through 
out  the  land  ;  ancient  Pavonia  sends  over  its  contributions  of 
cabbages  and  oysters ;  the  House  of  the  Four  Chimneys  is 
splendidly  illuminated,  and  the  traditional  song  of  St.  Nicholas, 
the  mystic  bond  of  union  and  conspiracy,  is  chaunted  with 
closed  doors,  in  every  genuine  Dutch  family. 

I  have  thus,  I  trust,  Mr.  Editor,  opened  your  eyes  to  some 
of  the  grand  moral,  poetical,  and  political  phenomena  with 
which  you  are  surrounded.  You  will  now  be  able  to  read  the 
"  signs  of  the  times."  You  will  now  understand  what  is  meant 
by  those  "  Knickerbocker  Halls,"  and  "  Knickerbocker  Hotels," 
and  "Knickerbocker  Lunches,"  that  are  daily  springing  up 
in  our  city,  and  what  all  these  "  Knickerbocker  Omni 
buses  "  are  driving  at.  You  will  see  in  them  so  many  clouds 
before  a  storm  ;  so  many  mysterious  but  sublime  intimations 
of  the  gathering  vengeance  of  a  great  though  oppressed  peo 
ple.  Above  all,  you  will  now  contemplate  our  bay  and  its  por 
tentous  borders,  with  proper  feelings  of  awe  and  admiration. 
Talk  of  the  Bay  of  Naples,  and  its  volcanic  mountains !  Why, 
Sir,  little  Communipaw,  sleeping  among  its  cabbage  gardens, 
"quiet  as  gunpowder,"  yet  with  this  tremendous  conspiracy 
brewing  in  its  bosom,  is  an  object  ten  times  as  sublime 
(in  a  moral  point  of  view,  mark  me)  as  Vesuvius  in  repose, 


CONSPIRACY  OF  TUB  COCKED  HATS.  97 

though  charged  with  lava  and  brimstone,  and  ready  for  an 
eruption. 

Let  me  advert  to  a  circumstance  connected  with  this  theme, 
which  cannot  but  be  appreciated  by  every  heart  of  sensibility. 
You  must  have  remarked,  Mr.  Editor,  on  summer  evenings, 
and  on  Sunday  afternoons,  certain  grave,  primitive-looking 
personages,  walking  the  Battery,  in  close  confabulation,  with 
their  canes  behind  their  backs,  and  ever  and  anon  turning  a 
wistful  gaze  toward  the  Jersey  shore.  These,  Sir,  are  the  sons 
of  Saint  Nicholas,  the  genuine  Nederlanders ;  who  regard  Com- 
mumpaw  with  pious  reverence,  not  merely  as  the  progenitor, 
but  the  destined  regenerator,  of  this  great  metropolis.  Yes, 
Sir ;  they  are  looking  with  longing  eyes  to  the  green  marshes 
of  ancient  Pavonia,  as  did  the  poor  conquered  Spaniards  of 
yore  toward  the  stern  mountains  of  Asturias,  wondering 
whether  the  day  of  deliverance  is  at  hand.  Many  is  the  time, 
when,  in  my  boyhood,  I  have  walked  with  my  father  and  his 
confidential  compeers  on  the  Battery,  and  listened  to  their  cal 
culations  and  conjectures,  and  observed  the  points  of  their 
sharp  cocked  hats  evermore  turned  toward  Pavonia.  Nay,  Sir, 
I  am  convinced  that  at  this  moment,  if  I  were  to  take  down  the 
cocked  hat  of  my  lamented  father  from  the  peg  on  which  it  has 
hung  for  years,  and  were  to  carry  it  to  the  Battery,  its  centre 
point,  true  as  the  needle  to  the  pole,  would  turn  to  Communipaw. 

Mr.  Editor,  the  great  historic  drama  of  New- Amsterdam,  is 
but  half  acted.  The  reigns  of  Walter  the  Doubter,  William 
the  Testy,  and  Peter  the  Headstrong,  with  the  rise,  progress, 
and  decline  of  the  Dutch  dynasty,  are  but  so  many  parts  of 
the  main  action,  the  triumphant  catastrophe  of  which  is  yet 
to  come.  Yes,  Sir!  the  deliverance  of  the  New-Nederlands 
from  Yankee  domination  will  eclipse  the  far-famed  redemp 
tion  of  Spain  from  the  Moors,  and  the  oft-sung  conquest  of 
Granada  will  fade  before  the  chivalrous  triumph  of  New- 
Amsterdam.  Would  that  Peter  Stuyvesant  could  rise  from  his 
grave  to  witness  that  day  I 

Your  humble  servant, 

ROLOFF  VAN  RIPPER. 


P.  S.  Just  as  I  had  concluded  the  foregoing  epistle,  I  received 
a  piece  of  intelligence,  which  makes  me  tremble  for  the  fate  of 
Communipaw.  I  fear,  Mr.  Editor,  the  grand  conspiracy  is  in 
danger  of  being  countermined  and  counteracted,  by  those  all- 


98  WOLFEBT8  JIOOST  AND  MISCELLANIES. 

pervading  and  indefatigable  Yankees.  Would  you  think  it, 
Sir !  one  of  them  has  actually  effected  an  entry  in  the  place  by 
covered  way ;  or  in  other  words,  under  coverof  the  petticoats. 
Finding  every  other  mode  ineffectual,  he  secretly  laid  siege  to 
a  Dutch  heiress,  who  owns  a  great  cabbage-garden  in  her 
own  right.  Being  a  smooth-tongued  varlet,  he  easily  prevailed 
on  her  to  elope  with  him,  and  they  were  privately  married  at 
Spank-town!  The  first  notice  the  good  people  of  Communi- 
paw  had  of  this  awful  event,  was  a  lithographed  map  of  the 
cabbage  garden  laid  out  in  town  lots,  and  advertised  for  sale  1 
On  the  night  of  the  wedding,  the  main  weather-cock  of  the 
House  of  the  Four  Chimneys  was  carried  away  in  a  whirl 
wind!  The  greatest  consternation  reigns  throughout  the 
village! 


A  LEGEND  OF  COMMUNIPAW. 

TO  THE  EDITOR  OF  THE  KNICKERBOCKER  MAGAZINE. 

SIR  :  I  observed  in  your  last  month's  periodical,  a  communi 
cation  from  a  Mr.  VANDERDONK,  giving  some  information  con 
cerning  Communipaw.  I  herewith  send  you,  Mr.  Editor,  a 
legend  connected  with  that  place ;  and  am  much  surprised  it 
should  have  escaped  the  researches  of  your  very  authentic  cor 
respondent,  as  it  relates  to  an  edifice  scarcely  less  fated  than 
the  House  of  the  Four  Chimneys.  I  give  you  the  legend  in  its 
crude  and  simple  state,  as  I  heard  it  related ;  it  is  capable,  how 
ever,  of  being  dilated,  inflated,  and  dressed  up  into  very  im 
posing  shape  and  dimensions.  Should  any  of  your  ingenious 
contributors  in  this  line  feel  inclined  to  take  it  in  hand,  they 
will  find  a/nple  materials,  collateral  and  illustrative,  among 
the  papers  of  the  late  Reinier  Skaats,  many  years  since  crier 
of  the  court,  and  keeper  of  the  City  Hall,  in  the  city  of  the 
Manhattoes ;  or  in  the  library  of  that  important  and  utterly  re 
nowned  functionary,  Mr.  Jacob  Hays,  long  time  high  constable, 
who,  in  the  course  of  his  extensive  researches,  has  amassed 
an  amount  of  valuable  facts,  to  be  rivalled  only  by  that  great 
historical  collection,  "The  Newgate  Calendar." 

Your  humble  servant, 

BARBNT  VAN  SCHAICK. 


A  LEGEND   OF  COMMUNIPAW.  99 

GUESTS  FROM  GIBBET-ISLAND. 
A  LEGEND  OF  COMMUNIPAW. 

WHOEVER  has  visited  the  ancient  and  renowned  village 
Of  Communipaw,  may  have  noticed  an  old  stone  building, 
of  most  ruinous  and  sinister  appearance.  The  doors  and  win 
dow-shutters  are  ready  to  drop  from  their  hinges ;  old  clothes 
are  stuffed  in  the  broken  panes  of  glass,  while  legions  of  half- 
starved  dogs  prowl  about  the  premises,  and  rush  out  and  bark 
at  every  passer-by;  for  your  beggarly  house  in  a  village  is 
tnost  apt  to  swarm  with  profligate  and  ill-conditioned  dogs. 
What  adds  to  the  sinister  appearance  of  this  mansion,  is  a  tall 
frame  in  front,  not  a  little  resembling  a  gallows,  and  which 
looks  as  if  waiting  to  accommodate  some  of  the  inhabitants 
with  a  well-merited  airing.  It  is  not  a  gallows,  however,  but 
an  ancient  sign-post ;  for  this  dwelling,  in  the  golden  days  of 
Communipaw,  was  one  of  the  most  orderly  and  peaceful  of 
village  taverns,  where  all  the  public  affairs  of  Communipaw 
were  talked  and  smoked  over.  In  fact,  it  was  in  this  very 
building  that  Oloffe  the  Dreamer,  and  his  companions,  con 
certed  that  great  voyage  of  discovery  and  colonization,  in  which 
they  explored  Buttermilk  Channel,  were  nearly  shipwrecked  in 
the  strait  of  Hell-gate,  and  finally  landed  on  the  Island  of  Man 
hattan,  and  founded  the  great  city  of  New- Amsterdam. 

Even  after  the  province  had  been  cruelly  wrested  from  the 
sway  of  their  High  Mightinesses,  by  the  combined  forces  of  the 
British  and  Yankees,  this  tavern  continued  its  ancient  loyalty. 
It  is  true,  the  head  of  the  Prince  of  Orange  disappeared  from 
the  sign ;  a  strange  bird  being  painted  over  it,  with  the  explan 
atory  legend  of  "  DIE  WILDE  GANS,  "  or  The  Wild  Goose;  but 
this  all  the  world  knew  to  be  a  sly  riddle  of  the  landlord,  the 
worthy  Teunis  Van  Gieson,  a  knowing  man  in  a  small  way, 
who  laid  his  finger  beside  his  nose  and  winked,  when  any 
one  studied  the  signification  of  his  sign,  and  observed  that  his 
Koose  was  hatching,  but  would  join  the  flock  whenever  they 
flew  over  the  water ;  an  enigma  which  was  the  perpetual  rec 
reation  and  delight  of  the  loyal  but  fat-headed  burghers  of 
Communipaw. 

Under  the  sway  of  this  patriotic,  though  discreet  and  quiet 
publican,  the  tavern  continued  to  flourish  in  primeval  trail' 


1(!0  WOLFERTS  ROOST  AND  MISCELLANIES. 

quillity,  and  was  the  resort  of  all  true-hearted  Nederlanders, 
from  all  parts  of  Pavonia ;  who  met  here  quietly  and  secretly, 
to  smoke  and  drink  the  downfall  of  Briton  and  Yankee,  and 
success  to  Admiral  Van  Tromp. 

The  only  drawback  on  the  comfort  of  the  establishment,  was 
a  nephew  of  mine  host,  a  sister's  son,  Yan  Yost  Vanderscamp 
by  name,  and  a  real  scamp  by  nature.  This  unlucky  whipster 
showed  an  early  propensity  to  mischief,  which  he  gratified  in 
a,  small  way,  by  playing  tricks  upon  the  frequenters  of  the 
Wild  Goose;  putting  gunpowder  in  their  pipes,  or  squibs  in 
their  pockets,  and  astonishing  them  with  an  explosion,  while 
they  sat  nodding  round  the  fire-place  in  the  bar-room ;  and  if 
perchance  a  worthy  burgher  from  some  distant  part  of  Pavonia 
had  lingered  until  dark  over  his  potation,  it  was  odds  but  that 
young  Vanderscamp  would  slip  a  briar  under  his  horse's  tail, 
as  he  mounted,  and  send  him  clattering  along  the  road,  in  neck' 
or-nothing  style,  to  his  infinite  astonishment  and  discomfiture. 

It  may  be  wondered  at,  that  mine  host  of  the  Wild  Goose  did 
not  turn  such  a  graceless  varlet  out  of  doors ;  but  Teunis  Van 
Gieson  was  an  easy-tempered  man,  and,  having  no  child  of  his 
own,  looked  upon  his  nephew  with  almost  parental  indulgence. 
His  patience  and  good-nature  were  doomed  to  be  tried  by  an 
other  inmate  of  his  mansion.  This  was  a  cross-grained  cur 
mudgeon  of  a  negro,  named  Pluto,  who  was  a  kind  of  enigma 
in  Communipaw.  Where  he  came  from,  nobody  knew.  He 
was  found  one  morning,  after  a  storm,  cast  like  a  sea-monster 
on  the  strand,  in  front  of  the  Wild  Goose,  and  lay  there,  more 
dead  than  alive.  The  neighbors  gathered  round,  and  specu 
lated  on  this  production  of  the  deep ;  whether  it  were  fish  or 
flesh,  or  a  compound  of  both,  commonly  yclept  a  merman. 
The  kind-hearted  Teunis  Van  Gieson,  seeing  that  he  wore  the 
human  form,  took  him  into  his  house,  and  warmed  him  into 
life.  By  degrees,  he  showed  signs  of  intelligence,  and  even 
uttered  sounds  very  much  like  language,  but  which  no  one  in' 
Communipaw  could  understand.  Some  thought  him  a  negro 
just  from  Guinea,  who  had  either  fallen  overboard,  or  escaped 
from  a  slave-ship.  Nothing,  however,  could  ever  draw  from 
him  any  account  of  his  origin.  When  questioned  on  the  sub 
ject,  he  merely  pointed  to  Gibbet-Island,  a  small  rocky  islet, 
which  lies  in  the  open  bay,  just  opposite  to  Communipaw,  as 
if  that  were  his  native  place,  though  every  body  knew  it  had 
never  been  inhabited. 

In  the  process  of  time,  he  acquired  something  of  the  Dutch 


A  LEGEND   OF  COMMUNIPAW.  101 

language,  that  is  to  say,  he  learnt  all  its  vocabulary  of  oaths 
and  maledictions,  with  just  words  sufficient  to  string  them  to 
gether.  "Bonder  en  blicksen!"  (thunder  and  lightning,)  was 
the  gentlest  of  his  ejaculations.  For  years  he  kept  about  the 
Wild  Goose,  more  like  one  of  those  familiar  spirits,  or  house 
hold  goblins,  that  we  read  of,  than  like  a  human  being.  He 
acknowledged  allegiance  to  no  one,  but  performed  various 
domestic  offices,  when  it  suited  his  humor ;  waiting  occasion 
ally  on  the  guests ;  grooming  the  horses,  cutting  wood,  drawing 
water ;  and  all  this  without  being  ordered.  Lay  any  command 
on  him,  and  the  stubborn  sea-urchin  was  sure  to  rebel.  He  was 
never  so  much  at  home,  however,  as  when  on  the  water,  plying 
about  in  skiff  or  canoe,  entirely  alone,  fishing,  crabbing,  or 
grabbing  for  oysters,  and  would  bring  home  quantities  for  the 
larder  of  the  Wild  Goose,  which  he  would  throw  down  at  the 
kitchen  door,  with  a  growl.  No  wind  nor  weather  deterred  him 
from  launching  forth  on  his  favorite  element:  indeed,  the 
wilder  the  weather,  the  more  he  seemed  to  enjoy  it.  If  a 
storm  was  brewing,  he  was  sure  to  put  off  from  shore;  and 
would  be  seen  far  out  in  the  bay,  his  light  skiff  dancing  like  a 
feather  on  the  waves,  when  sea  and  sky  were  all  in  a  turmoil, 
and  the  stoutest  ships  were  fain  to  lower  their  sails.  Some 
times,  on  such  occasions,  he  would  be  absent  for  days  together. 
How  he  weathered  the  tempest,  and  how  and  where  he  sub 
sisted,  no  one  could  divine,  nor  did  any  one  venture  to  ask,  for 
all  had  an  almost  superstitious  awe  of  him.  Some  of  the  Com- 
munipaw  oystermen  declared  that  they  had  more  than  once 
seen  him  suddenly  disappear,  canoe  and  all,  as  if  they  plunged 
beneath  the  waves,  and  after  a  while  come  up  again,  in  quite  a 
different  part  of  the  bay ;  whence  they  concluded  that  he  could 
live  under  water  like  that  notable  species  of  wild  duck,  com 
monly  called  the  Hell-diver.  All  began  to  consider  him  in  the 
light  of  a  foul-weather  bird,  like  the  Mother  Carey's  Chicken, 
or  Stormy  Petrel ;  and  whenever  they  saw  him  putting  far  out 
in  his  skiff,  in  cloudy  weather,  made  up  their  minds  for  a 
storm. 

The  only  being  for  whom  he  seemed  to  have  any  liking,  was 
Yan  Yost  Vanderscamp,  and  him  he  liked  for  his  very  wicked 
ness.  He  in  a  manner  took  the  boy  under  his  tutelage, 
prompted  him  to  all  kinds  of  mischief,  aided  him  in  every  wild, 
harum-scarum  freak,  until  the  lad  became  the  complete  scape 
grace  of  the  village ;  a  pest  to  his  uncle,  and  to  every  one  else. 
Nor  were  his  pranks  confined  to  the  land ;  he  soon  learned  to 


102  WOLFERT8  ROOST  AND  MISCELLANIES. 

accompany  old  Pluto  on  the  water.  Together  these  worthies 
would  cruise  about  the  broad  bay,  and  all  the  neighboring 
Btraits  and  rivers ;  poking  around  in  skiffs  and  canoes ;  robbing 
the  set-nets  of  the  fishermen;  landing  on  remote  coasts,  and 
laying  waste  orchards  and  water-melon  patches;  in  short, 
carrying  on  a  complete  system  of  piracy,  on  a  small  scale! 
Piloted  by  Pluto,  the  youthful  Vanderscamp  soon  became 
acquainted  with  all  the  bays,  rivers,  creeks,  and  inlets  of  the 
watery  world  around  him;  could  navigate  from  the  Hook  to 
Spiting-devil  on  the  darkest  night,  and  learned  to  set  even  the 
terrors  of  Hell-gate  at  defiance. 

At  length,  negro  and  boy  suddenly  disappeared,  and  days 
and  weeks  elapsed,  but  without  tidings  of  them.  Some  said 
they  must  have  run  away  and  gone  to  sea;  others  jocosely 
hinted,  that  old  Pluto,  being  no  other  than  his  namesake  in 
disguise,  had  spirited  away  the  boy  to  the  nether  regions.  All, 
however,  agreed  in  one  thing,  that  the  village  was  well  rid 
of  them. 

In  the  process  of  time,  the  good  Teunis  Van  Gieson  slept  with 
his  fathers,  and  the  tavern  remained  shut  up,  waiting  for  a 
claimant,  for  the  next  heir  was  Yan  Yost  Vanderscamp,  and 
he  had  not  been  heard  of  for  years.  At  length,  one  day,  a  boat 
was  seen  pulling  for  the  shore,  from  a  long,  black,  rakish-look 
ing  schooner,  that  lay  at  anchor  in  the  bay.  The  boat's  crew 
seemed  worthy  of  the  craft  from  which  they  debarked.  Never 
had  such  a  set  of  noisy,  roistering,  swaggering  varlets  landed 
in  peaceful  Communipaw.  They  were  outlandish  in  garb  and 
demeanor,  and  were  headed  by  a  rough,  burly,  bully  ruffian, 
with  fiery  whiskers,  a  copper  nose,  a  scar  across  his  face,  and 
a  great  Maunderish  beaver  slouched  on  one  side  of  his  head,  in 
whom,  to  their  dismay,  the  quiet  inhabitants  were  made  to 
recognize  their  early  pest,  Yan  Yost  Vanderscamp.  The  rear 
of  this  hopeful  gang  was  brought  up  by  old  Pluto,  who  had  lost 
an  eye,  grown  grizzly-headed,  and  looked  more  like  a  devil 
than  ever.  Vanderscamp  renewed  his  acquaintance  with  the 
old  burghers,  much  against  their  will,  and  in  a  manner  not  at 
all  to  their  taste.  He  slapped  them  familiarly  on  the  back, 
gave  them  an  iron  grip  of  the  hand,  and  was  hail  fellow  well 
met.  According  to  his  own  account,  he  had  been  all  the  world 
over ;  had  made  money  by  bags  full ;  had  ships  in  every  sea, 
and  now  meant  to  turn  the  Wild  Goose  into  a  country  seat, 
where  he  and  his  comrades,  all  rich  merchants  from  foreign 
parts,  might  enjoy  themselves  in  the  interval  of  their  voyages. 


A  LEGEND   OF  COMMUNIPAW.  103 

Sure  enough,  in  a  little  while  there  was  a  complete  metamor 
phose  of  the  Wild  Goose.  From  being  a  quiet,  peaceful  Dutch 
public  house,  it  became  a  most  riotous,  uproarious  private 
dwelling ;  a  complete  rendezvous  for  boisterous  men  of  the  seas, 
who  came  here  to  have  what  they  called  a  'blow  out"  on  dry 
land,  and  might  be  seen  at  all  hours,  lounging  about  the  door, 
or  lolling  out  of  the  windows;  swearing  among  themselves, 
and  cracking  rough  jokes  on  every  passer-by.  The  house  was 
fitted  up,  too,  in  so  strange  a  manner :  hammocks  slung  to  the 
walls,  instead  of  bedsteads ;  odd  kinds  of  furniture,  of  foreign 
fashion;  bamboo  couches,  Spanish  chairs;  pistols,  cutlasses, 
and  blunderbusses,  suspended  on  every  peg;  silver  crucifixes 
on  the  mantel-pieces,  silver  candle-sticks  and  porringers  on 
the  tables,  contrasting  oddly  with  the  pewter  and  Delf  ware 
of  the  original  establishment.  And  then  the  strange  amuse 
ments  of  these  sea-monsters !  Pitching  Spanish  dollars,  instead 
of  quoits;  firing  blunderbusses  out  of  the  window;  shoot 
ing  at  a  mark,  or  at  any  unhappy  dog,  or  cat,  or  pig,  or 
barn-door  fowl,  that  might  happen  to  come  within  reach. 

The  only  being  who  seemed  to  relish  their  rough  waggery, 
was  old  Pluto ;  and  yet  he  led  but  a  dog's  lif e  of  it ;  for  they 
practised  all  kinds  of  manual  jokes  upon  him;  kicked  him 
about  like  a  foot-ball ;  shook  him  by  his  grizzly  mop  of  wool, 
and  never  spoke  to  him  without  coupling  a  curse  by  way  of 
adjective  to  his  name,  and  consigning  him  to  the  infernal  re 
gions.  The  old  fellow,  however,  seemed  to  like  them  the  better, 
the  more  they  cursed  him,  though  his  utmost  expression  of 
pleasure  never  amounted  to  more  than  the  growl  of  a  petted 
bear,  when  his  ears  are  rubbed. 

Old  Pluto  was  the  ministering  spirit  at  the  orgies  of  the  Wild 
Goose;  and  such  orgies  as  took  place  there!  Such  drinking, 
singing,  whooping,  swearing;  with  an  occasional  interlude  of 
quarrelling  and  fighting.  The  noisier  grew  the  revel,  the  more 
old  Pluto  plied  the  potations,  until  the  guests  would  become 
frantic  in  their  merriment,  smashing  every  thing  to  pieces,  and 
throwing  the  house  out  of  the  windows.  Sometimes,  after  a 
drinking  bout,  they  sallied  forth  and  scoured  the  village,  to 
the  dismay  of  the  worthy  burghers,  who  gathered  their  women 
within  doors,  and  would  have  shut  up  the-house.  Vanderscamp, 
however,  was  not  to  be  rebuffed.  He  insisted  on  renewing 
acquaintance  with  his  old  neighbors,  and  on  introducing  his 
friends,  the  merchants,  to  their  families;  swore  he  was  on  the 
look-out  for  a  wife,  and  meant,  before  he  stopped,  to  find  hug- 


104  WOLFKRTS  ROOST  AND  MISCELLANIES. 

bands  for  all  their  daughters.  So,  will-ye,  nil-ye,  sociable  he 
was ;  swaggered  about  their  best  parlors,  with  his  hat  on  one 
side  of  his  head ;  sat  on  the  good  wife's  nicely- waxed  mahogany 
table,  kicking  his  heels  against  the  carved  and  polished  legs ; 
kissed  and  tousled  the  young  vrouws ;  and,  if  they  frowned  and 
pouted,  gave  them  a  gold  rosary,  or  a  sparkling  cross,  to  put 
them  in  good  humor  again. 

Sometimes  nothing  would  satisfy  him,  but  he  must  have 
some  of  his  old  neighbors  to  dinner  at  the  Wild  Goose. 
There  was  no  refusing  him,  for  he  had  got  the  complete  upper- 
hand  of  the  community,  and  the  peaceful  burghers  all  stood 
in  awe  of  him.  But  what  a  time  would  the  quiet,  worthy 
men  have,  among  these  rake-hells,  who  would  delight  to  as 
tound  them  with  the  most  extravagant  gunpowder  tales,  em 
broidered  with  all  kinds  of  foreign  oaths ;  clink  the  can  with 
them ;  pledge  them  in  deep  potations ;  bawl  drinking  songs  in 
their  ears;  and  occasionally  fire  pistols  over  their  heads,  or 
under  the  table,  and  then  laugh  in  their  faces,  and  ask  them 
how  they  liked  the  smell  of  gunpowder. 

Thus  was  the  little  village  of  Communipaw  for  a  time  like 
the  unfortunate  wight  possessed  with  devils;  until  Vander- 
scamp  and  his  brother  merchants  would  sail  on  another 
trading  voyage,  when  the  Wild  Goose  would  be  shut  up,  and 
every  thing  relapse  into  quiet,  only  to  be  disturbed  by  his  next 
visitation. 

The  mystery  of  all  these  proceedings  gradually  dawned  upon 
the  tardy  intellects  of  Communipaw.  These  were  the  times 
of  the  notorious  Captain  Kidd,  when  the  American  harbors 
were  the  resorts  of  piratical  adventurers  of  all  kinds,  who, 
under  pretext  of  mercantile  voyages,  scoured  the  West  Indies, 
made  plundering  descents  upon  the  Spanish  Main,  visited 
even  the  remote  Indian  Seas,  and  then  came  to  dispose  of 
their  booty,  have  their  revels,  and  fit  out  new  expeditions,  in 
the  English  colonies. 

Vanderscamp  had  served  in  this  hopeful  school,  and  having 
risen  to  importance  among  the  bucaniers,  had  pitched  upon 
his  native  village  and  early  home,  as  a  quiet,  out-of-the-way, 
unsuspected  place,  where  he  and  his  comrades,  while  anchored 
at  New  York,  might  have  their  feasts,  and  concert  their  plans, 
without  molestation. 

At  length  the  attention  of  the  British  government  was  called 
to  these  piratical  enterprises,  that  were  becoming  so  frequent 
and  outrageous.  Vigorous  measures  were  taken  to  check  and 


A  LEGEND   OF  COMMUNIPAW.  105 

punish  them.  Several  of  the  most  noted  freebooters  were 
caught  and  executed,  and  three  of  Vanderscamp's  chosen  com 
rades,  the  most  riotous  swash-bucklers  of  the  Wild  Goose, 
were  hanged  in  chains  on  Gibbet-Island,  in  full  sight  of  their 
favorite  resort.  As  to  Vanderscamp  himself,  he  and  his  man 
Pluto  again  disappeared,  and  it  was  hoped  by  the  people  of 
Communipaw  that  he  had  fallen  in  some  foreign  brawl,  or 
been  swung  on  some  foreign  gallows. 

For  a  time,  therefore,  the  tranquillity  of  the  village  was  re 
stored  ;  the  worthy  Dutchmen  once  more  smoked  their  pipes 
in  peace,  eying,  with  peculiar  complacency,  their  old  pests  and 
terrors,  the  pirates,  dangling  and  drying  in  the  sun,  on  Gibbet- 
Island. 

This  perfect  calm  was  doomed  at  length  to  be  ruffled.  The 
fiery  persecution  of  the  pirates  gradually  subsided.  Justice 
was  satisfied  with  the  examples  that  had  been  made,  and  there 
was  no  more  talk  of  Kidd,  and  the  other  heroes  of  like  kidney. 
On  a  calm  summer  evening,  a  boat,  somewhat  heavily  laden, 
was  seen  pulling  into  Communipaw.  What  was  the  surprise 
and  disquiet  of  the  inhabitants,  to  see  Yan  Yost  Vanderscamp 
seated  at  the  helm,  and  his  man  Pluto  tugging  at  the  oars ! 
Vanderscamp,  however,  was  apparently  an  altered  man.  He 
brought  home  with  him  a  wife,  who  seemed  to  be  a  shrew, 
and  to  have  the  upper-hand  of  him.  He  no  longer  was  thfl 
swaggering,  bully  ruffian,  but  affected  the  regular  merchant, 
and  talked  of  retiring  from  business,  and  settling  down 
quietly,  to  pass  the  rest  of  his  days  in  his  native  place. 

The  Wild  Goose  mansion  was  again  opened,  but  with  dimi 
nished  splendor,  and  no  riot.  It  is  true,  Vanderscamp  had  fre 
quent  nautical  visitors,  and  the  sound  of  revelry  was  occasion 
ally  overheard  in  his  house ;  but  every  thing  seemed  to  be  done 
under  the  rose ;  and  old  Pluto  was  the  only  servant  that  offi 
ciated  at  these  orgies.  The  visitors,  indeed,  were  by  no  means 
of  the  turbulent  stamp  of  their  predecessors ;  but  quiet,  mys 
terious  traders,  full  of  nods,  and  winks,  and  hieroglyphic 
signs,  with  whom,  to  use  their  cant  phrase,  "  every  thing  was 
smug. "  Their  ships  came  to  anchor  at  night  in  the  lower  baj  ; 
and,  on  a  private  signal,  Vanderscamp  would  launch  his  boat, 
and  accompanied  solely  by  his  man  Pluto,  would  make  them 
mysterious  visits.  Sometimes  boats  pulled  in  at  night,  in 
front  of  the  Wild  Goose,  and  various  articles  of  merchandise 
were  landed  in  the  dark,  and  spirited  away,  nobody  knew 
whither.  One  of  the  more  curious  of  the  inhabitants  kept 


106          WOLFKRTS  ROOST  AND  MISQBLLAXISS, 

watch,  and  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  features  of  some  of  these 
night  visitors,  by  the  casual  glance  of  a  lantern,  and  declared 
that  he  recognized  more  than  one  of  the  freebooting  frequen 
ters  of  the  Wild  Goose,  in  former  times ;  from  whence  he  con 
cluded  that  Vanderscamp  was  at  his  old  game,  and  that  this 
mysterious  merchandise  was  nothing  more  nor  less  than 
piratical  plunder.  The  more  charitable  opinion,  however,  was, 
that  Vanderscamp  and  his  comrades,  having  been  driven 
from  their  old  line  of  business,  by  the  "  oppressions  of  govern 
ment,"  had  resorted  to  smuggling  to  make  both  ends  meet. 

Be  that  as  it  may :  I  come  now  to  the  extraordinary  fact, 
which  is  the  butt-end  of  this  story.  It  happened  late  one 
night,  that  Yan  Yost  Vanderscamp  was  returning  across  the 
broad  bay,  in  his  light  skiff,  rowed  by  his  man  Pluto.  Ho 
had  been  carousing  on  board  of  a  vessel,  newly  arrived,  and 
was  somewhat  obfuscated  in  intellect,  by  the  liquor  he  had 
imbibed.  It  was  a  still,  sultry  night ;  a  heavy  mass  of  lurid 
clouds  was  rising  in  the  west,  with  the  low  muttering  of  dis 
tant  thunder.  Vanderscamp  called  on  Pluto  to  pull  lustily, 
that  they  might  get  home  before  the  gathering  storm.  The 
old  negro  made  no  reply,  but  shaped  his  course  so  as  to  skirt 
the  rocky  shores  of  Gibbet-Island.  A  faint  creaking  overhead 
caused  Vanderscamp  to  cast  up  his  eyes,  when,  to  his  horror, 
he  beheld  the  bodies  of  his  three  pot  companions  and  brothers 
in  iniquity  dangling  in  the  moonlight,  their  rags  fluttering,  and 
their  chains  creaking,  as  they  were  slowly  swung  backward 
and  forward  by  the  rising  breeze. 

"What  do  you  mean,  you  blockhead!"  cried  Vanderscamp, 
"  by  pulling  so  close  to  the  island?" 

"  I  thought  you'd  be  glad  to  see  your  old  friends  once  more," 
growled  the  negro;  "you  were  never  afraid  of  a  living  man, 
what  do  you  fear  from  the  dead?" 

"  Who's  afraid?"  hiccupped  Vanderscamp,  partly  heated  by 
liquor,  partly  nettled  by  the  jeer  of  the  negro;  "  who's  afraid! 
Hang  me,  but  I  would  be  glad  to  see  them  once  more,  alive  or 
dead,  at  the  Wild  Goose.  Come,  my  lads  in  the  wind  I"  con 
tinued  he,  taking  a  draught,  and  flourishing  the  bottle  above 
his  head,  "  here's  fair  weather  to  you  in  the  other  world;  and 
if  you  should  be  walking  the  rounds  to-night,  odds  fish!  but 
111  be  happy  if  you  will  drop  in  to  supper." 

A  dismal  creaking  was  the  only  reply.  The  wind  blew  loud 
and  shrill,  and  as  it  whistled  round  the  gallows,  and  among  the 
bones,  sounded  as  if  there  were  laughing  and  gibbering  in  the 


A  LEGEND  OF  COMMUNIPAW.  107 

air.  Old  Pluto  chuckled  to  himsel  f,  and  now  pulled  for  home. 
The  storm,  burst  over  the  voyagers,  while  they  were  yet  far 
from,  shore.  The  rain  fell  in  torrents,  the  thunder  crashed  and 
pealed,  and  the  lightning  kept  up  an  incessant  blaze.  It  was 
stark  midnight,  before  they  landed  at  Communipaw. 

Dripping  and  shivering,  Vanderscamp  crawled  homeward, 
lie  was  completely  sobered  by  the  storm ;  the  water  soaked 
from  without,  having  diluted  and  cooled  the  liquor  within. 
Arrived  at  the  Wild  Goose,  he  knocked  timidly  aud  dubiously 
at  the  door,  for  he  dreaded  the  reception  he  was  to  experience 
from  his  wife.  He  had  reason  to  do  so.  She  met  him  at  the 
threshold,  in  a  precious  ill  humor. 

"Is  this  a  time,"  said  she,  "to  keep  people  out  of  their  beds, 
and  to  bring  home  company,  to  turn  the  house  upside  down?" 

"Company?"  said  Vanderscamp,  meekly;  "I  have  brought 
no  company  with  me,  wife. " 

"No,  indeed!  they  have  got  here  before  you,  but  by  your 
invitation ;  and  blessed-looking  company  they  are,  truly !" 

Vanderscamp's  knees  smote  together.  "For  the  love  of 
heaven,  where  are  they,  wife?" 

"Where? — why,  in  the  blue-room,  up-stairs,  making  them 
selves  as  much  at  home  as  if  the  house  were  their  own. " 

Vanderscamp  made  a  desperate  effort,  scrambled  up  to  the 
room,  and  threw  open  the  door.  Sure  enough,  there  at  a  table, 
on  which  burned  a  light  as  blue  as  brimstone,  sat  the  three 
guests  from  Gibbet-Island,  with  halters  round  their  necks,  and 
bobbing  their  cups  together,  as  if  they  were  hob-or-nobbing, 
and  trolling  the  old  Dutch  freebooter's  glee,  since  translated 
into  English : 

"  For  three  merry  lads  be  we, 
And  three  merry  lads  be  we ; 
I  on  the  land,  and  thou  on  the  sand, 
And  Jack  on  the  gallows-tree." 

Vanderscamp  saw  and  heard  no  more.  Starting  back  with 
horror,  he  missed  his  fooling  on  the  landing-place,  and  fell 
from  the  top  of  the  stairs  to  the  bottom.  He  was  taken  up 
speechless,  and,  either  from  the  fall  or  the  fright,  was  buried 
in  the  yard  of  the  little  Dutch  church  at  Bergen,  on  the  fol 
lowing  Sunday. 

From  that  day  forward,  the  fate  of  the  Wild  Goose  was 
sealed.  It  was  pronounced  a  haunted  house,  and  avoided  ac 
cordingly.  No  one  inhabited  it  but  Vanderscamp's  shrew  of 
a  widow,  and  old  Pluto,  and  they  were  considered  but  little 


108  WOLFERT8  ROOST  AND  MISCELLANIES. 

better  than  its  hobgoblin  visitors.  Pluto  grew  more  and  more 
haggard  and  morose,  and  looked  more  like  an  imp  of  darkness 
than  a  human  being.  He  spoke  to  no  one,  but  went  about  mut 
tering  to  himself;  or,  as  some  hinted,  talking  with  the  devil, 
who,  though  unseen,  was  ever  at  his  elbow.  Now  and  then  he 
was  seen  pulling  about  the  bay  alone,  in  his  skiff,  in  dark 
weather,  or  at  the  approach  of  night-fall;  nobody  could  telJ 
why,  unless  on  an  errand  to  invite  more  guests  from  the  gal 
lows.  Indeed  it  was  affirmed  that  the  Wild  Goose  still  con 
tinued  to  be  a  house  of  entertainment  for  such  guests,  and  that 
on  stormy  nights,  the  blue  chamber  was  occasionally  illumi 
nated,  and  sounds  of  diabolical  merriment  were  overheard, 
mingling  with  the  howling  of  the  tempest.  Some  treated 
these  as  idle  stories,  until  on  one  such  night,  it  was  about  the 
time  of  the  equinox,  there  was  a  horrible  uproar  in  the  Wild 
Goose,  that  could  not  be  mistaken.  It  was  not  so  much  the 
sound  of  revelry,  however,  as  strife,  with  two  or  three  piercing 
shrieks,  that  pervaded  every  part  of  the  village.  Nevertheless, 
no  one  thought  of  hastening  to  the  spot.  On  the  contrary,  the 
honest  burghers  of  Communipaw  drew  their  night-caps  over 
their  ears,  and  buried  their  heads  under  the  bed-clothes,  at  the 
thoughts  of  Vanderscamp  and  his  gallows  companions. 

The  next  morning,  some  of  the  bolder  and  more  curious 
undertook  to  reconnoitre.  All  was  quiet  and  lifeless  at  the 
Wild  Goose.  The  door  yawned  wide  open,  and  had  evidently 
been  open  all  night,  for  the  storm  had  beaten  into  the  house. 
Gathering  more  courage  from  the  silence  and  apparent  deser 
tion,  they  gradually  ventured  over  the  threshold.  The  house 
had  indeed  the  air  of  having  been  possessed  by  devils.  Every 
thing  was  topsy-turvy;  trunks  had  been  broken  open,  and 
chests  of  drawers  and  corner  cupboards  turned  inside  out,  as 
in  a  time  of  general  sack  and  pillage ;  but  the  most  wof  ul  sight 
was  the  widow  of  Yan  Yost  Vanderscamp,  extended  a  corpse 
on  the  floor  of  the  blue-chamber,  with  the  marks  of  a  deadly 
gripe  on  the  wind-pipe. 

All  now  was  conjecture  and  dismay  at  Communipaw ;  and 
the  disappearance  of  old  Pluto,  who  was  no  where  to  be  found, 
gave  rise  to  all  kinds  of  wild  surmises.  Some  suggested  that 
the  negro  had  betrayed  the  house  to  some  of  Vanderscamp'a 
bucaniering  associates,  and  that  they  had  decamped  together 
•with  the  booty ;  others  surmised  that  the  negro  was  nothing 
more  nor  less  than  a  devil  incarnate,  who  had  now  accom 
plished  his  ends,  and  made  off  with  his  dues. 


THE  BERMUDAS.  109 

Events,  however,  vindicated  the  negro  from  this  last  imputa 
tion.  His  skiff  was  picked  up,  drifting  about  the  bay,  bottom 
upward,  as  if  wrecked  in  a  tempest ;  and  his  body  was  found, 
shortly  afterward,  by  some  Communipaw  fishermen,  stranded 
among  the  rocks  of  Gibbet-Island,  near  the  foot  of  the  pirates' 
gallows.  The  fishermen  shook  their  heads,  and  observed  that 
old  Pluto  had  ventured  once  too  often  to  invite  Guests  from 
Gibbet-Island. 


THE  BERMUDAS. 

A  SHAKSPERIAN  RESEARCH:    BY    THE    AUTHOR    OF    THE    SKETCH 
BOOK. 

"WHO  did  not  think,  till  within  these  foure  yeares,  but  that  these  islands  had  been 
rather  a  habitation  for  Divells,  than  fit  for  men  to  dwell  in?  Who  did  not  hate  the 
name,  when  nee  was  on  land,  and  shun  the  place  when  he  was  on  the  seas?  But 
behold  the  misprision  and  conceits  of  the  world !  For  true  and  large  experience 
hath  now  told  us,  it  is  one  of  the  sweetest  paradises  that  be  upon  earth." — "A 
PLAINK  DESCRIPT.  OF  THE  BARMVDAS:"  1613. 

IN  the  course  of  a  voyage  home  from  England,  our  ship  had 
been  struggling,  for  two  or  three  weeks,  with  perverse  head 
winds,  and  a  stormy  sea.  It  was  in  the  month  of  May,  yet 
the  weather  had  at  times  a  wintry  sharpness,  and  it  was  ap 
prehended  that  we  were  in  the  neighborhood  of  floating  islands 
of  ice,  which  at  that  season  of  the  year  drift  out  of  the  Gulf  of 
Saint  Lawrence,  and  sometimes  occasion  the  wreck  of  noble 
ships. 

Wearied  out  by  the  continued  opposition  of  the  elements, 
our  captain  at  length  bore  away  to  the  south,  in  hopes  of 
catching  the  expiring  breath  of  the  trade-winds,  and  making 
what  is  called  the  southern  passage.  A  few  days  wrought,  as 
it  were,  a  magical  "sea  change"  in  everything  around  us.  We 
seemed  to  emerge  into  a  different  world.  The  late  dark  and 
angry  sea,  lashed  up  into  roaring  and  swashing  surges,  became 
calm  and  sunny ;  the  rude  winds  died  away ;  and  gradually  a 
light  breeze  sprang  up  directly  aft,  filling  out  every  sail,  and 
wafting  us  smoothly  along  on  an  even  keel.  The  air  softened 
into  a  bland  and  delightful  temperature.  Dolphins  began  to 
play  about  us ;  the  nautilus  came  floating  by,  like  a  fairy  ship, 
its  mimic  sail  and  rainbow  tints ;  and  flying-fish,  from 


110  WOLFERT'8  ROOST  AND  MISCELLANIES. 

time  to  time,  made  their  short  excursive  flights,  and  occasion 
ally  fell  upon  the  deck.  The  cloaks  and  overcoats  in  which  we 
had  hitherto  wrapped  ourselves,  and  moped  about  the  vessel, 
were  thrown  aside ;  for  a  summer  warmth  had  succeeded  to 
the  late  wintry  chills.  Sails  were  stretched  as  awnings  over 
the  quarter-deck,  to  protect  us  from  the  mid-day  sun.  Under 
these  we  lounged  away  the  day,  in  luxurious  indolence,  musing, 
with  half-shut  eyes,  upon  the  quiet  ocean.  The  night  was 
scarcely  less  beautiful  than  the  day.  The  rising  moon  sent  a 
quivering  column  of  silver  along  the  undulating  surface  of  the 
deep,  and,  gradually  climbing  the  heaven,  lit  up  our  towering 
top-sails  and  swelling  main-sails,  and  spread  a  pale,  mysterious 
light  around.  As  our  ship  made  her  whispering  way  through 
this  dreamy  world  of  waters,  every  boisterous  sound  on  board 
was  charmed  to  silence ;  and  the  low  whistle,  or  drowsy  song 
of  a  sailor  from  the  forecastle,  or  the  tinkling  of  a  guitar,  and 
the  soft  warbling  of  a  female  voice  from  the  quarter-deck, 
seemed  to  derive  a  witching  melody  from  the  scene  and  hour. 
I  was  reminded  of  Oberon's  exquisite  description  of  music  and 
moonlight  on  the  ocean : 

"  Thou  rememberest 

Since  once  I  sat  upon  a  promontory, 
And  heard  a  mermaid  on  a  dolphin's  back, 
Uttering  such  dulcet  and  harmonious  breath. 
That  the  rude  sea  grew  civil  at  her  song? 
And  certain  stars  shot  madly  from  their  spheres, 
To  hear  the  sea-maid's  music." 

Indeed,  I  was  in  the  very  mood  to  conjure  up  all  the  ima 
ginary  beings  with  which  poetry  has  peopled  old  ocean,  and 
almost  ready  to  fancy  I  heard  the  distant  song  of  the  mermaid, 
or  the  mellow  shell  of  the  triton,  and  to  picture  to  myself  Nep 
tune  and  Amphitrite  with  all  their  pageant  sweeping  along  the 
dim  horizon. 

A  day  or  two  of  such  fanciful  voyaging  brought  us  in  sight 
of  the  Bermudas,  which  first  looked  like  mere  summer  clouds, 
peering  above  the  quiet  ocean.  All  day  we  glided  along  in 
sight  of  them,  with  just  wind  enough  to  fill  our  sails;  and 
never  did  land  appear  more  lovely.  They  were  clad  in  emerald 
verdure,  beneath  the  serenest  of  skies:  not  an  angry  wave 
broke  upon  their  quiet  shores,  and  small  fishing  craft,  riding 
on  the  crystal  waves,  seemed  as  if  hung  in  air.  It  was  such  a 
scene  that  Fletcher  pictured  to  himself,  when  he  extolled  the 
halcyon  lot  of  the  fisherman : 


THE  BERMUDAS.  HI 

Ah!  would  them  knewest  how  much  it  better  were 

To  bide  among  the  simple  fisher-swains: 
No  shrieking  owl,  no  night-crow  lodgeth  here, 

Nor  is  our  simple  pleasure  mixed  with  pains. 
Our  sports  begin  with  the  beginning  year; 
In  calms,  to  pull  the  leaping  fish  to  land, 
In  roughs,  to  sing  and  dance  along  the  yellow  sand. 

In  contemplating  these  beautiful  islands,  and  the  peaceful 
sea  around  them,  I  could  hardly  realize  that  these  were  the 
"  still  vexed  Bermoothes"  of  Shakspeare,  once  the  dread  of 
mariners,  and  infamous  in  the  narratives  of  the  early  dis 
coverers,  for  the  dangers  and  disasters  which  beset  them. 
Such,  however,  was  the  case;  and  the  islands  derived  addi 
tional  interest  in  my  eyes,  from  fancying  that  I  could  trace  in 
their  early  history,  and  in  the  superstitious  notions  connected 
with  them,  some  of  the  elements  of  Shakspeare's  wild  and 
beautiful  drama  of  the  Tempest.  I  shall  take  the  liberty  of 
citing  a  few  historical  facts,  in  support  of  this  idea,  which  may 
claim  some  additional  attention  from  the  American  reader,  as 
being  connected  with  the  first  settlement  of  Virginia. 

At  the  time  when  Shakspeare  was  in  the  fulness  of  his 
talent,  and  seizing  upon  every  thing  that  could  furnish  aliment 
to  his  imagination,  the  colonization  of  Virginia  was  a  favorite 
object  of  enterprise  among  people  of  condition  in  England,  and 
several  of  the  courtiers  of  the  court  of  Queen  Elizabeth  were 
personally  engaged  in  it.  In  the  year  1609  a  noble  armament 
of  nine  ships  and  five  hundred  men  sailed  for  the  relief  of  the 
colony.  It  was  commanded  by  Sir  George  Somers,  as  admiral, 
a  gallant  and  generous  gentleman,  above  sixty  years  of  age, 
and  possessed  of  an  ample  fortune,  yet  still  bent  upon  hardy 
enterprise,  and  ambitious  of  signalizing  himself  in  the  service 
of  his  country. 

On  board  of  his  flag-ship,  the  Sea- Vulture,  sailed  also  Sir 
Thomas  Gates,  lieutenant-general  of  the  colony.  The  voyage 
was  long  and  boisterous.  On  the  twenty-fifth  of  July,  the 
admiral's  ship  was  separated  from  the  rest,  in  a  hurricane. 
For  several  days  she  was  driven  about  at  the  mercy  of  the  ele 
ments,  and  so  strained  and  racked,  that  her  seams  yawned 
open,  and  her  hold  was  half  filled  with  water.  The  storm 
subsided,  but  left  her  a  mere  foundering  wreck.  The  crew 
stood  in  the  hold  to  their  waists  in  water,  vainly  endeavor 
ing  to  bail  her  with  kettles,  buckets,  and  other  vessels.  The 
leaks  rapidly  gained  on  them,  while  their  strength  was  as 
rapidly  declining.  They  lost  all  hope  of  keeping  the  ship 


112  WOLFKRl'S  ROOST  AND  MISCELLANIES. 

afloat,  until  they  should  reach  the  American  coast ;  and  wearied 
with  fruitless  toil,  determined,  in  their  despair,  to  give  up  all 
farther  attempt,  shut  down  the  hatches,  and  abandon  them 
selves  to  Providence.  Some,  who  had  spirituous  liquors,  or 
' '  comf ortable  waters, "  as  the  old  record  quaintly  terms  thorn, 
brought  them  forth,  and  shared  them  with  their  comrades, 
and  they  all  drank  a  sad  farewell  to  one  another,  as  men  who 
were  soon  to  part  company  in  this  world. 

In  this  moment  of  extremity,  the  worthy  admiral,  who  kept 
sleepless  watch  from  the  high  stern  of  the  vessel,  gave  the 
thrilling  cry  of  "land!"  All  rushed  on  deck,  in  a  frenzy  of 
joy,  and  nothing  now  was  to  be  seen  or  heard  on  board,  but 
the  transports  of  men  who  felt  as  if  rescued  from  the  grave. 
It  is  true  the  land  in  sight  would  not,  in  ordinary  circum 
stances,  have  inspired  much  self-gratulation.  It  could  be 
nothing  else  but  the  group  of  islands  called  after  their  dis 
coverer,  one  Juan  Bermudas,  a  Spaniard,  but  stigmatized 
among  the  mariners  of  those  days  as  "the  islands  of  devils!" 
"For  the  islands  of  the  Bermudas,"  says  the  old  narrative  of 
this  voyage,  ' '  as  every  man  knoweth  that  hath  heard  or  read 
of  them,  were  never  inhabited  by  any  Christian  or  heathen 
people,  but  were  ever  esteemed  and  reputed  a  most  prodigious 
and  inchanted  place,  affording  nothing  but  gusts,  stormes,  and 
foul  weather,  which  made  every  navigator  and  mariner  to 
avoide  them,  as  Scylla  and  Charybdis,  or  as  they  would  shun 
the  Divell  himself."* 

Sir  George  Somers  and  his  tempest-tossed  comrades,  how 
ever,  hailed  them  with  rapture,  as  if  they  had  been  a  terres 
trial  paradise.  Every  sail  was  spread,  and  every  exertion 
made  to  urge  the  foundering  ship  to  land.  Before  long,  she 
struck  upon  a  rock.  Fortunately,  the  late  rtormy  winds  had 
subsided,  and  there  was  no  surf.  A  swelling  wave  lifted  her 
from  off  the  rock,  and  bore  her  to  another ;  and  thus  she  was 
borne  on  from  rock  to  rock,  until  she  remained  wedged  be 
tween  two,  as  firmly  as  if  set  upon  the  stocks.  The  boats  were 
immediately  lowered,  and,  though  the  shore  was  above  a  mile 
distant,  the  whole  crew  were  landed  in  safety. 

Every  one  had  now  his  task  assigned  him.  Some  made  all 
haste  to  unload  the  ship,  before  she  should  go  to  pieces ;  some 
constructed  wigwams  of  palmetto  leaves,  and  others  ranged 
the  island  in  quest  of  wood  and  water.  To  their  surprise  and 


*  "A  Plaine  D&orfption  of  the  Burmudas." 


TEE  BERMUDAS.  113 

joy,  they  found  it  far  different  from  the  desolate  and  frightful 
place  they  had  been  taught,  by  seamen's  stories,  to  expect.  It 
was  well- wooded  and  fertile ;  there  were  birds  of  various  kinds, 
and  herds  of  swine  roaming  about,  the  progeny  of  a  number 
that  had  swam  ashore,  in  former  years,  from  a  Spanish  wreck. 
The  island  abounded  with  turtle,  and  great  quantities  of  their 
eggs  were  to  be  found  among  the  rocks.  The  bays  and  inlets 
were  full  of  fish;  so  tame,  that  if  any  one  stepped  into  the 
water,  they  would  throng  around  him.  Sir  George  Somers,  in 
a  little  while,  caught  enough  with  hook  and  line  to  furnish  a 
meal  to  his  whole  ship's  company.  Some  of  them  were  so 
large,  that  two  were  as  much  as  a  man  could  carry.  Craw 
fish,  also,  were  taken  in  abundance.  The  air  was  soft  and 
salubrious,  and  the  sky  beautifully  serene.  Waller,  in  his 
"Summer  Islands,"  has  given  us  a  faithful  picture  of  the 
climate : 

"  For  the  kind  spring,  (which  but  salutes  us  here,) 
Inhabits  these,  and  courts  them  all  the  year: 
Ripe  fruits  and  blossoms  on  the  same  trees  live; 
At  once  they  promise,  and  at  once  they  give: 
So  sweet  the  air,  so  moderate  the  clime, 
None  sickly  lives,  or  dies  before  his  time. 
Heaven  sure  has  kept  this  spot  of  earth  uncursed, 
To  shew  how  all  things  were  created  first." 

We  may  imagine  the  feelings  of  the  shipwrecked  mariners, 
on  finding  themselves  cast  by  stormy  seas  upon  so  happy  a 
coast ;  where  abundance  was  to  be  had  without  labor ;  where 
what  in  other  climes  constituted  the  costly  luxuries  of  the  rich, 
were  within  every  man's  reach ;  and  where  life  promised  to  be 
a  mere  holiday.  Many  of  the  common  sailors,  especially,  de 
clared  they  desired  no  better  lot  than  to  pass  the  rest  of  their 
iives  on  this  favored  island. 

The  commanders,  however,  were  not  so  ready  to  console 
themselves  with  mere  physical  comforts,  for  the  severance 
from  the  enjoyment  of  cultivated  life,  and  all  the  objects  of 
honorable  ambition.  Despairing  of  the  arrival  of  any  chance 
ship  on  these  shunned  and  dreaded  islands,  they  fitted  out  the 
long-boat,  making  a  deck  of  the  ship's  hatches,  and  having 
manned  her  with  eight  picked  men,  despatched  her,  under  the 
command  of  an  able  and  hardy  mariner,  named  Raven,  to 
proceed  to  Virginia,  and  procure  shipping  to  be  sent  to  their 
relief. 

While  waiting  in  anxious  idleness  for  the  arrival  of  the 


114  WOLFEETS  1100ST  AND  MISCELLANIES. 

iooked-for  aid,  dissensions  arose  between  Sir  George  Somers 
and  Sir  Thomas  Gates,  originating,  very  probably,  in  jealous} 
of  the  lead  which  the  nautical  experience  and  professional] 
station  of  the  admiral  gave  him  in  the  present  emergency. 
Each  commander,  of  course,  had  his  adherents :  these  dissen 
sions  ripened  into  a  complete  schism ;  and  this  handful  of  ship 
wrecked  men,  thus  thrown  together,  on  an  uninhabited  island, 
separated  into  two  parties,  and  lived  asunder  in  bitter  feud,  as 
men  rendered  fickle  by  prosperity  instead  of  being  brought 
into  brotherhood  by  a  common  calamity. 

Weeks  and  months  elapsed,  without  bringing  the  Iooked-for 
aid  from  Virginia,  though  that  colony  was  within  but  a  few  days' 
sail.  Fears  were  now  entertained  that  the  long-boat  had  been 
either  swallowed  up  in  the  sea,  or  wrecked  on  some  savage 
coast ;  one  or  other  of  which  most  probably  was  the  case,  as 
nothing  was  ever  heard  of  Raven  and  his  comrades. 

Each  party  now  set  to  work  to  build  a  vessel  for  itself  out  of 
the  cedar  with  which  the  island  abounded.  The  wreck  of  the 
Sea- Vulture  furnished  rigging,  and  various  other  articles ;  but 
they  had^no  iron  for  bolts,  and  other  fastenings ;  and  for  want 
of  pitch  and  tar,  they  payed  the  seams  of  their  vessels  with 
lime  and  turtle's  oil,  which  soon  dried,  and  became  as  hard  as 
stone. 

On  the  tenth  of  May,  1610,  they  set  sail,  having  been  about 
nine  months  on  the  island.  They  reached  Virginia  without 
farther  accident,  but  found  the  colony  in  great  distress  for  pro 
visions.  The  account  they  gave  of  the  abundance  that  reigned 
in  the  Bermudas,  and  especially  of  the  herds  of  swine  that 
roamed  the  island,  determined  Lord  Delaware,  the  governor 
of  Virginia,  to  send  thither  for  supplies.  Sir  George  Somers, 
with  his  wonted  promptness  and  generosity,  offered  to  under 
take  what  was  still  considered  a  dangerous  voyage.  Accord- 
jingly,  on  the  nineteenth  of  June,  he  set  sail,  in  his  own  cedar 
vessel  of  thirty  tons,  accompanied  by  another  small  vessel, 
commanded  by  Captain  Argall. 

The  gallant  Somers  was  doomed  again  to  be  tempest-tossed. 
His  companion  vessel  was  soon  driven  back  to  port,  but  he 
kept  the  sea;  and,  as  usual,  remained  at  his  post  on  deck,  in 
all  weathers.  His  voyage  was  long  and  boisterous,  and  the 
fatigues  and  exposures  which  he  underwent,  were  too  much 
for  a  frame  impaired  by  age,  and  by  previous  hardships.  He 
arrived  at  Bermudas  completely  exhausted  and  broken  down. 

His  nephew,  Captain  Mathew  Somers,  attended  him  in  hia 


TEE  BERMUDAS.  115 

illness  with  affectionate  assiduity.  Finding  his  end  approach 
ing,  the  veteran  called  his  men  together,  and  exhorted  them  to 
be  true  to  the  interests  of  Virginia ;  to  procure  provisions  with 
all  possible  despatch,  and  hasten  back  to  the  relief  of  the 
colony. 

With  this  dying  charge,  he  gave  up  the  ghost,  leaving  ms 
nephew  and  crew  overwhelmed  with  grief  and  consternation. 
Their  first  thought  was  to  pay  honor  to  his  remains.  Opening 
the  body,  they  took  out  the  heart  and  entrails,  and  buried  them, 
erecting  a  cross  over  the  grave.  They  then  embalmed  the 
body,  and  set  sail  with  it  for  England;  thus,  while  paying 
empty  honors  to  their  deceased  commander,  neglecting  his  ear 
nest  wish  and  dying  injunction,  that  they  should  return  with 
relief  to  Virginia. 

The  little  bark  arrived  safely  at  Whitechurch,  in  Dorsetshire, 
with  its  melancholy  freight.  The  body  of  the  worthy  Somers 
was  interred  with  the  military  honors  due  to  a  brave  soldier, 
and  many  volleys  were  fired  over  his  grave.  The  Bermudas 
have  since  received  the  name  of  the  Somer  Islands,  as  a  tribute 
to  his  memory. 

The  accounts  given  by  Captain  Mathew  Somers  and  his  crew 
of  the  delightful  climate,  and  the  great  beauty,  fertility,  and 
abundance  of  these  islands,  excited  the  zeal  of  enthusiasts,  and 
the  cupidity  of  speculators,  and  a  plan  was  set  on  foot  to  colo 
nize  them.  The  Virginia  company  sold  their  right  to  the 
islands  to  one  hundred  and  twenty  of  their  own  members,  who 
erected  themselves  into  a  distinct  corporation,  under  the  name 
of  the  "  Somer  Island  Society ;"  and  Mr.  Eichard  More  was  sent 
out,  in  1612,  as  governor,  with  sixty  men,  to  found  a  colony: 
and  this  leads  me  to  the  second  branch  of  this  research. 


THE  THREE  KINGS  OF  BERMUDA. 
AND  THEIR  TREASURE  OF  AMBERGRIS. 

AT  the  time  that  Sir  George  Somers  was  preparing  to  launch 
his  cedar-built  bark,  and  sail  for  Virginia,  there  were  three  cul 
prits  among  his  men,  who  had  been  guilty  of  capital  offences. 
One  of  them  was  shot ;  the  others,  named  Christopher  Carter 
and  Edward  Waters,  escaped.  Waters,  indeed,  made  a  very 
narrow  escape,  for  he  had  actually  been  tied  to  a  tree  to  be 
executed,  but  cut  the  rope  with  a  knife,  which  he  had  con- 


116  WOLFER2nS  ROOST  AND  MISCELLANIES. 

cealed  about  his  person,  and  fled  to  the  woods,  where  he  was 
joined  by  Carter.  These  two  worthies  kept  themselves  con 
cealed  in  the  secret  parts  of  the  island,  until  the  departure  of 
the  two  vessels.  When  Sir  George  Somers  revisited  the 
island,  in  quest  of  supplies  for  the  Virginia  colony,  these  cul 
prits  hovered  about  the  landing-place,  and  succeeded  in  per 
suading  another  seaman,  named  Edward  Chard,  to  join  them, 
giving  him  the  most  seductive  pictures  of  the  ease  and  abun 
dance  in  which  they  revelled. 

When  the  bark  that  bore  Sir  George's  body  to  England  had 
faded  from  the  watery  horizon,  these  three  vagabonds  walked 
forth  in  their  majesty  and  might,  the  lords  and  sole  inhabi 
tants  of  these  islands.  For  a  time  their  little  commonwealth 
went  on  prosperously  and  happily.  They  built  a  house,  sowed 
corn,  and  the  seeds  of  various  fruits;  and  having  plenty  of 
hogs,  wild  fowl,  and  fish  of  all  kinds,  with  turtle  in  abundance, 
carried  on  their  tripartite  sovereignty  with  great  harmony  and 
much  feasting.  All  kingdoms,  however,  are  doomed  to  revo 
lution,  convulsion,  or  decay ;  and  so  it  fared  with  the  empire 
of  the  three  kings  of  Bermuda,  albeit  they  were  monarchs 
without  subjects.  In  an  evil  hour,  in  their  search  after  turtle, 
among  the  fissures  of  the  rocks,  they  came  upon  a  great  treas 
ure  of  ambergris,  which  had  been  cast  on  shore  by  the  ocean. 
Beside  a  number  of  pieces  of  smaller  dimensions,  there  was  one 
great  mass,  the  largest  that  had  ever  been  known,  weighing 
eighty  pounds,  and  which  of  itself,  according  to  the  market 
value  of  ambergris  in  those  days,  was  worth  about  nine  or  ten 
thousand  pounds  1 

From  that  moment,  the  happiness  and  harmony  of  the  three 
kings  of  Bermuda  were  gone  for  ever.  While  poor  devils,  with 
nothing  to  share  but  the  common  blessings  of  the  island, 
which  administered  to  present  enjoyment,  but  had  nothing  of 
convertible  value,  they  were  loving  and  united :  but  here  was 
actual  wealth,  which  would  make  them  rich  men,  whenever 
they  could  transport  it  to  a  market. 

Adieu  the  delights  of  the  island !  They  now  became  flat  and 
insipid.  Each  pictured  to  himself  the  consequence  he  might 
now  aspire  to,  in  civilized  life,  could  he  once  get  there  with 
this  mass  of  ambergris.  No  longer  a  poor  Jack  Tar,  frolicking 
in  the  low  taverns  of  Wapping,  he  might  roll  through  London 
in  his  coach,  and  perchance  arrive,  like  Whittington,  at  the 
dignity  of  Lord  Mayor. 

With  riches  come  envy  and  coveiouaness,    Each  was  now 


THE  BERMUDAS.  117 

for  assuming  the  supreme  power,  and  getting  the  monopoly  of 
the  ambergris.  A  civil  war  at  length  broke  out :  Chard  and 
"Waters  defied  each  other  to  mortal  combat,  and  the  kingdom 
of  the  Bermudas  was  on  the  point  of  being  deluged  with  royal 
blood.  Fortunately,  Carter  took  no  part  in  the  bloody  feud. 
Ambition  might  have  made  him  view  it  with  secret  exultation ; 
for  if  either  or  both  of  his  brother  potentates  were  slain  in  the 
conflict,  he  would  be  a  gainer  in  purse  and  ambergris.  But  he 
dreaded  to  be  left  alone  in  this  uninhabited  island,  and  to  find 
himself  the  monarch  of  a  solitude:  so  he  secretly  purloined 
and  hid  the  weapons  of  the  belligerent  rivals,  who,  having 
no  means  of  carrying  on  the  war,  gradually  cooled  down  into 
a  sullen  armistice. 

The  arrival  of  Governor  More,  with  an  overpowering  force 
of  sixty  men,  put  an  end  to  the  empire.  He  took  possession  of 
the  kingdom,  in  the  name  of  the  Somer  Island  Company,  and 
forthwith  proceeded  to  make  a  settlement.  The  three  kings 
tacitly  relinquished  their  sway,  but  stood  up  stoutly  for 
their  treasure.  It  was  determined,  however,  that  they  had 
been  fitted  out  at  the  expense,  and  employed  in  the  service,  of 
the  Virginia  Company ;  that  they  had  found  the  ambergis 
while  in  the  service  of  that  company,  and  on  that  company's 
land ;  that  the  ambergis,  therefore,  belonged  to  that  company, 
or  rather  to  the  Somer  Island  Company,  in  consequence  of 
their  recent  purchase  of  the  island,  and  all  their  appurte 
nances.  Having  thus  legally  established  their  right,  and  being 
moreover  able  to  back  it  by  might,  the  company  laid  the  lion's 
paw  upon  the  spoil;  and  nothing  more  remains  on  historic 
record  of  the  Three  Kings  of  Bermuda,  and  their  treasure  of 
ambergris. 


THE  reader  will  now  determine  whether  I  am  more  extrava 
gant  than  most  of  the  commentators  on  Shakspeare,  in  my 
surmise  that  the  story  of  Sir  George  Somers'  shipwreck,  and 
the  subsequent  occurrences  that  took  place  on  the  uninhabited 
island,  may  have  furnished  the  bard  with  some  of  the  elements 
of  his  drama  of  the  Tempest.  The  tidings  of  the  shipwreck, 
and  of  the  incidents  connected  with  it,  reached  England  not 
long  before  the  production  of  this  drama,  and  made  a  great 
sensation  there.  A  narrative  of  the  whole  matter,  from  which 
most  of  the  foregoing  particulars  are  extracted,  was  published 
at  the  time  in  London,  in  a  pamphlet  form,  and  could  not  fail 
to  fee  eagerly  perused  bv  ^lia^spe.?!]*^  ajid  to  make  a  vro<j 


118  WOLFKRTS  ROOST  AND  MISCELLANIES. 

impression  on  his  fancy.  His  expression,  in  the  Tempest,  of 
"the  still  vext  Bermoothes,"  accords  exactly  with  the  storm- 
beaten  character  of  those  islands.  The  enchantments,  too, 
with  which  he  has  clothed  the  island  of  Prospero,  may  they 
not  be  traced  to  the  wild  and  superstitious  notions  entertained 
about  the  Bermudas?  I  have  already  cited  two  passages  from 
a  pamphlet  published  at  the  time,  showing  that  they  were 
esteemed  "a  most  prodigious  and  inchantcd  place,"  and  the 
' '  habitation  of  divells ;"  and  another  pamphlet,  published  shortly 
afterward,  observes :  ' '  And  whereas  it  is  reported  that  this  land 
of  the  Barmudas,  with  the  islands  about,  (which  are  many,  at 
least  a  hundred,)  are  inchanted  and  kept  with  evil  and  wicked 
spirits,  it  is  a  most  idle  and  false  report."  * 

The  description,  too,  given  in  the  same  pamphlets,  of  the 
real  beauty  and  fertility  of  the  Bermudas,  and  of  their  serene 
and  happy  climate,  so  opposite  to  the  dangerous  and  inhospi 
table  character  with  which  they  had  been  stigmatized,  accords 
with  the  eulogium  of  Sebastian  on  the  island  of  Prospero: 

"  Though  this  island  seem  to  be  desert,  uninhabitable,  and  almost  inaccessible,  It 
must  needs  be  of  subtle,  tender,  and  delicate  temperance.  The  air  breathes  upon  us 
here  most  sweetly.  Here  is  every  thing  advantageous  to  life.  How  lush  and  lusty 
the  grass  looks !  how  green !" 

I  think  too,  in  the  exulting  consciousness  of  ease,  security, 
and  abundance  felt  by  the  late  tempest-tossed  mariners,  while 
revelling  in  the  plenteousness  of  the  island,  and  their  inclina 
tion  to  remain  there,  released  from  the  labors,  the  cares,  and 
the  artificial  restraints  of  civilized  life,  I  can  see  something  of 
the  golden  commonwealth  of  honest  Gonzalo : 

"  Had  I  plantation  of  this  isle,  my  lord, 
And  were  the  king  of  it,  what  would  I  dot 
I'  the  commonwealth  I  would  by  contraries 
Execute  all  things:  for  no  kind  pf  traffic 
Would  I  admit;  no  name  of  magistrate; 
Letters  should  not  be  known;  riches,  poverty, 
And  use  of  service,  none;  contract,  succession, 
Bourn,  bound  of  land,  tilth,  vineyard,  none: 
No  use  of  metal,  corn,  or  wine,  or  oil: 
No  occupation;  all  men  idle,  all. 

All  things  in  common,  nature  should  produce, 
Without  sweat  or  endeavor:  Treason,  felony, 
Sword,  pike,  knife,  gun,  or  need  of  any  engine. 
Would  I  not  have ;  but  nature  should  bring  forth, 
Of  its  own  kind,  all  foizon.  all  abundance, 
To  feed  my  innocent  people." 

*  "  Newea  from  the  Barmudas;"  1812. 


PELATO  AND  THE  MERCHANTS  DAUGHTER.     H9 

But  above  all,  in  the  three  fugitive  vagabonds  who  remained 
in  possession  of  the  island  of  Bermuda,  on  the  departure  of 
their  comrades,  and  in  their  squabbles  about  supremacy,  on  the 
finding  of  their  treasure,  I  see  typified  Sebastian,  Trinculo,  and 
their  worthy  companion  Caliban : 

"  Trinculo,  the  king  and  all  our  company  being  drowned,  we  will  inherit  here." 
"  Monster,  I  will  kill  this  man ;  his  daughter  and  I  will  be  king  and  queen,  (save  our 
graces!)  and  Trinculo  and  thyself  shall  be  viceroys." 

I  do  not  mean  to  hold  up  the  incidents  and  characters  in  the 
narrative  and  in  the  play  as  parallel,  or  as  being  strikingly 
similar :  neither  would  I  insinuate  that  the  narrative  suggested 
the  play ;  I  would  only  suppose  that  Shakspeare,  being  occupied 
about  that  time  on  the  drama  of  the  Tempest,  the  main  story 
of  which,  I  believe,  is  of  Italian  origin,  had  many  of  the  fanci 
ful  ideas  of  it  suggested  to  his  mind  by  the  shipwreck  of 
Sir  George  Somers  on  the  "  still  vext  Bermothes,"  and  by  the 
popular  superstitions  connected  with  these  islands,  and  sud 
denly  put  in  circulation  by  that  event. 


PELAYO  AND  THE  MEECHANT'S  DAUGHTER. 

BY  THE  AUTHOR  OF  THE    SKETCH-BOOK. 

IT  is  the  common  lamentation  of  Spanish  historiographers, 
that,  for  an  obscure  and  melancholy  space  of  time  immediately 
succeeding  the  conquest  of  their  country  by  the  Moslems,  its 
history  is  a  mere  wilderness  of  dubious  facts,  groundless 
fables,  and  rash  exaggerations.  Learned  men,  in  cells  and 
cloisters,  have  worn  out  their  lives  in  vainly  endeavoring  to 
connect  incongruous  events,  and  to  account  for  startling 
improbabilities,  recorded  of  this  period.  The  worthy  Jesuit, 
Padre  Abarca,  declares  that,  for  more  than  forty  years  during 
which  he  had  been  employed  in  theological  controversies,  he 
had  never  found  any  so  obscure  and  inexplicable  as  those 
which  rise  out  of  this  portion  of  Spanish  history,  and  that  the 
only  fruit  of  an  indefatigable,  prolix,  and  even  prodigious 
study  of  the  subject,  was  a  melancholy  and  mortifying  state 
of  indecision.* 

*  PADRE  PEDRO  ABARCA,    Anales  de  Aragon,  Anti  Regno,  jj  2. 


120  WOLFERT8  ROOST  AND  MISCELLANIES. 

During  this  apocryphal  period,  flourished  PELAYO,  the  deliv 
erer  of  Spain,  whose  name,  like  that  of  William  Wallace,  will 
ever  be  linked  with  the  glory  of  his  country,  but  linked,  in  like 
manner,  by  a  bond  in  which  fact  and  fiction  are  inextricably 
interwoven. 

The  quaint  old  chronicle  of  the  Moor  Rasis,  which,  though 
wild  and  fanciful  in  the  extreme,  is  frequently  drawn  upon  for 
early  facts  by  Spanish  historians,  professes  to  give  the  birth, 
parentage,  and  whole  course  of  fortune  of  Pelayo,  without  the 
least  doubt  or  hesitation.  It  makes  him  a  son  of  the  Duke  of 
Cantabria,  and  descended,  both  by  father  and  mother's  side, 
from  the  Gothic  kings  of  Spain.  I  shall  pass  over  the  roman 
tic  story  of  his  childhood,  and  shall  content  myself  with  a 
scene  of  his  youth,  which  was  spent  in  a  castle  among  the 
Pyrenees,  under  the  eye  of  his  widowed  and  noble-minded 
mother,  who  caused  him  to  be  instructed  in  everything 
befitting  a  cavalier  of  gentle  birth.  While  the  sons  of  the 
nobility  were  revelling  amid  the  pleasures  of  a  licentious 
court,  and  sunk  in  that  vicious  and  effeminate  indulgence 
which  led  to  the  perdition  of  unhappy  Spain,  the  youthful 
Pelayo,  in  his  rugged  mountain  school,  was  steeled  to  all  kinds 
of  hardy  exercise.  A  great  part  of  his  time  was  spent  in  hunt 
ing  the  bears,  the  wild  boars,  and  the  wolves,  with  which  the 
Pyrenees  abounded;  and  so  purely  and  chastely  was  he 
brought  up,  by  his  good  lady  mother,  that,  if  the  ancient 
chronicle  from  which  I  draw  my  facts  may  be  relied  on,  he 
had  attained  his  one-and-twentieth  year,  without  having  once 
sighed  for  woman ! 

Nor  were  his  hardy  contests  confined  to  the  wild  beasts  of 
the  forest.  Occasionally  he  had  to  contend  with  adversaries  of 
a  more  formidable  character.  The  skirts  and  defiles  of  these 
border  mountains  were  often  infested  by  marauders  from  the 
Gallic  plains  of  Gascony.  The  Gascons,  says  an  old  chronicler, 
were  a  people  who  used  smooth  words  when  expedient,  but 
force  when  they  had  power,  and  were  ready  to  lay  their  hands 
on  every  thing  they  met.  Though  poor,  they  were  proud ;  for 
there  was  not  one  who  did  not  pride  himself  on  being  a  hijo- 
dalgo,  or  the  son  of  somebody. 

At  the  head  of  a  band  of  these  needy  hijodalgos  of  Gascony, 
was  one  Arnaud,  a  broken-down  cavalier.  He  and  four  of  his 
followers  were  well  armed  and  mounted ;  the  rest  were  a  set  of 
scamper-grounds  on  foot,  furnished  with  darts  and  javelins. 
They  were  the  terror  of  the  border}  here  to-day  and  gone  to- 


PELATO  ANU  THE  MERCHANTS  DAUGHTER.     121 

morrow ;  sometimes  in  one  pass,  sometimes  in  another.  They 
would  make  sudden  inroads  into  Spain,  scour  the  roads,  plun 
der  the  country,  and  were  over  the  mountains  and  far  away 
before  a  force  could  be  collected  to  pursue  them. 

Now  it  happened  one  day,  that  a  wealthy  burgher  of  Bor 
deaux,  who  was  a  merchant,  trading  with  Biscay,  set  out  on  a 
journey  for  that  province.  As  he  intended  to  sojourn  there 
for  a  season,  he  took  with  him  his  wife,  who  was  a  goodly 
dame,  and  his  daughter,  a  gentle  damsel,  of  marriageable  age, 
and  exceeding  fair  to  look  upon.  He  was  attended  by  a  trusty 
clerk  from  his  comptoir,  and  a  man  servant;  while  another 
servant  led  a  hackney,  laden  with  bags  of  money,  with  which 
he  intended  to  purchase  merchandise. 

When  the  Gascons  heard  of  this  wealthy  merchant  and  his 
convoy  passing  through  the  mountains,  they  thanked  their 
stars,  for  they  considered  all  peaceful  men  of  traffic  as  lawful 
spoil,  sent  by  providence  for  the  benefit  of  hidalgos  like  them 
selves,  of  valor  and  gentle  blood,  who  lived  by  the  sword. 
Placing  themselves  in  ambush,  in  a  lonely  defile,  by  which  the 
travellers  had  to  pass,  they  silently  awaited  their  coming.  In 
a  little  while  they  beheld  them  approaching.  The  merchant 
was  a  fair,  portly  man,  in  a  buff  surcoat  and  velvet  cap.  His 
looks  bespoke  the  good  cheer  of  his  native  city,  and  he  was 
mounted  on  a  stately,  well-fed  steed,  while  his  wife  and  daugh 
ter  paced  gently  on  palfreys  by  his  side. 

The  travellers  had  advanced  some  distance  in  the  defile, 
when  the  Bandoleros  rushed  forth  and  assailed  them.  The 
merchant,  though  but  little  used  to  the  exercise  of  arms,  and 
unwieldy  in  his  form,  yet  made  valiant  defence,  having  his 
wife  and  daughter  and  money-bags  at  hazard.  He  was  wounded 
in  two  places,  and  overpowered ;  one  of  his  servants  was  slain, 
the  other  took  to  flight. 

The  freebooters  then  began  to  ransack  for  spoil,  but  were  dis 
appointed  at  not  finding  the  wealth  they  had  expected.  Put 
ting  their  swords  to  the  breast  of  the  trembling  merchant,  they 
demanded  where  he  had  concealed  his  treasure,  and  learned 
from  him  of  the  hackney  that  was  following,  laden  with  money. 
Overjoyed  at  this  intelligence,  they  bound  their  captives  to 
trees,  and  awaited  the  arrival  of  the  golden  spoil. 

On  this  same  day,  Pelayo  was  out  with  his  huntsmen  among 
the  mountains,  and  had  taken  his  stand  on  a  rock,  at  a  narrow 
pass,  to  await  the  sallying  forth  of  a  wild  boar.  Close  by  him 
was  a  page,  conducting  a  horse,  and,  at  the  saddle-bow  hungj 


122  WOLFERTS  ROOST  AND  MISCELLANIES. 

his  armor,  for  he  was  always  prepared  for  fight  among  these 
border  mountains.  While  thus  posted,  the  servant  of  the  mer 
chant  came  flying  from  the  robbers.  On  beholding  Pelayo,  he 
fell  on  his  knees,  and  implored  his  life,  for  he  supposed  him  to 
be  one  of  the  band.  It  was  some  time  before  he  could  be  re 
lieved  from  his  terror,  and  made  to  tell  his  story.  When 
Pelayo  heard  of  the  robbers,  he  concluded  they  were  the  crew 
of  Gascon  hidalgos,  upon  the  scamper.  Taking  his  armor  from 
the  page,  he  put  on  his  helmet,  slung  his  buckler  round  his 
neck,  took  lance  in  hand,  and  mounting  his  steed,  compelled 
the  trembling  servant  to  guide  him  to  the  scene  of  action.  At 
the  same  time  he  ordered  the  page  to  seek  his  huntsmen,  and 
summon  them  to  his  assistance. 

When  the  robbers  saw  Pelayo  advancing  through  the  forest, 
with  a  single  attendant  on  foot,  and  beheld  his  rich  armor 
sparkling  in  the  sun,  they  thought  a  new  prize  had  fallen  into 
their  hands,  and  Arnaud  and  two  of  his  companions,  mounting 
their  horses,  advanced  to  meet  him.  As  they  approached, 
Pelayo  stationed  himself  in  a  narrow  pass  between  two  rocks, 
where  he  could  only  be  assailed  in  front,  and  bracing  his  buck 
ler,  and  lowering  his  lance,  awaited  their  coming. 

"Who  and  what  are  ye,"  cried  he,  "and  what  seek  ye  in  this 
land?" 

"We  are  huntsmen,"  replied  Arnaud,  "and  lo!  our  game 
runs  into  our  toils !" 

"By  my  faith,"  replied  Pelayo,  "thou  wilt  find  the  game 
more  readily  roused  than  taken :  have  at  thee  for  a  villain !" 

So  saying,  he  put  spurs  to  his  horse,  and  ran  full  speed  upon 
him.  The  Gascon,  not  expecting  so  sudden  an  attack  from  a 
single  horseman,  was  taken  by  surprise.  He  hastily  couched 
his  lance,  but  it  merely  glanced  on  the  shield  of  Pelayo,  who 
sent  his  own  through  the  middle  of  his  breast,  and  threw  him 
out  of  his  saddle  to  the  earth.  One  of  the  other  robbers  made 
at  Pelayo,  and  wounded  him  slightly  in  the  side,  but  received 
a  blow  from  the  sword  of  the  latter,  which  cleft  his  skull-cap, 
and  sank  into  his  brain.  His  companion,  seeing  him  fall,  put 
spurs  to  his  steed,  and  galloped  off  through  the  forest. 

Beholding  several  other  robbers  on  foot  coming  up,  Pelayo 
returned  to  his  station  between  the  rocks,  where  he  was  as 
sailed  by  them  all  at  once.  He  received  two  of  their  darts  on 
his  buckler,  a  javelin  razed  his  cuirass,  and  glancing  down, 
wounded  his  horse.  Pelayo  then  rushed  forth,  and  struck  one 
of  the  robbers  dead:  the  others,  beholding  several  huntsmen 


PELATO  AND  THE  MERCHANTS  DAUGHTER.     123 

advancing,  took  to  flight,  but  were  pursued,  and  several  of  them 
taken. 

The  good  merchant  of  Bordeaux  and  his  family  beheld  this 
scene  with  trembling  and  amazement,  for  never  had  they  looked 
upon  such  feats  of  arms.  They  considered  Don  Pelayo  as  a 
leader  of  some  rival  band  of  robbers ;  and  when  the  bonds  were 
loosed  by  which  they  were  tied  to  the  trees,  they  fell  at  his  feet 
and  implored  mercy.  The  females  were  soonest  undeceived, 
especially  the  daughter ;  for  the  damsel  was  struck  with  the' 
noble  countenance  and  gentle  demeanor  of  Pelayo,  and  said  to 
herself :  ' '  Surely  nothing  evil  can  dwell  in  so  goodly  and  gra 
cious  a  form." 

Pelayo  now  sounded  his  horn,  which  echoed  from  rock  to 
rock,  and  was  answered  by  shouts  and  horns  from,  various 
parts  of  the  mountains.  The  merchant's  heart  misgave  him  at 
these  signals,  and  especially  when  he  beheld  more  than  forty 
men  gathering  from  glen  and  thicket.  They  were  clad  in  hunt 
ers'  dresses,  and  armed  with  boar-spears,  darts,  and  hunting- 
swords,  and  many  of  them  led  hounds  in  long  leashes.  All 
this  was  a  new  and  wild  scene  to  the  astonished  merchant ;  nor 
were  his  fears  abated,  when  he  saw  his  servant  approaching 
with  the  hackney,  laden  with  money-bags;  "for  of  a  cer 
tainty,"  said  he  to  himself,  "this  will  be  too  tempting  a  spoil 
for  these  wild  hunters  of  the  mountains." 

Pelayo,  however,  took  no  more  notice  of  the  gold  than  if  it 
had  been  so  much  dross ;  at  which  the  honest  burgher  mar 
velled  exceedingly.  He  ordered  that  the  wounds  of  the  mer 
chant  should  be  dressed,  and  his  own  examined.  On  taking 
off  his  cuirass,  his  wound  was  found  to  be  but  slight ;  but  his 
men  were  so  exasperated  at  seeing  his  blood,  that  they  would 
have  put  the  captive  robbers  to  instant  death,  had  he  not  for 
bidden  them  to  do  them  any  harm. 

The  huntsmen  now  made  a  great  fire  at  the  foot  of  a  tree, 
and  bringing  a  boar  which  they  had  killed,  cut  off  portions 
and  roasted  them,  or  broiled  them  on  the  coals.  Then  draw 
ing  forth  loaves  of  bread  from  their  wallets,  they  devoured, 
their  food  half  raw,  with  the  hungry  relish  of  huntsmen  and 
mountaineers.  The  merchant,  his  wife,  and  daughter,  looked 
at  all  this,  and  wondered,  for  they  had  never  beheld  so  savage 
a  repast. 

Pelayo  then  inquired  of  them  if  they  did  not  desire  to  eat ; 
they  were  too  much  in  awe  of  him  to  decline,  though  they  felt 
a  loathing  at  the  thought  of  partaking  of  this  hunter's  fare; 


124  WOLFERTS  ROOST  AND  MISCELLANIES. 

but  he  ordered  a  linen  cloth  to  be  spread  under  the  shade  of  a 
great  oak,  on  the  grassy  margin  of  a  clear  running  stream ; 
and  to  their  astonishment,  they  were  served,  not  with  the  flesh 
of  the  boar,  but  with  dainty  cheer,  such  as  the  merchant  had 
scarcely  hoped  to  find  out  of  the  walls  of  his  native  city  of 
Bordeaux. 

The  good  burgher  was  of  a  community  renowned  for  gas 
tronomic  prowess:  his  fears  having  subsided,  his  appetite 
was  now  awakened,  and  he  addressed  himself  manfully  to 
the  viands  that  were  set  before  him.  His  daughter,  how 
ever,  could  not  eat:  her  eyes  were  ever  and  anon  stealing  to 
gaze  on  Pelayo,  whom  she  regarded  with  gratitude  for  his  pro 
tection,  and  admiration  for  his  valor;  and  now  that  he  had 
laid  aside  his  helmet,  and  she  beheld  his  lofty  countenance, 
glowing  with  manly  beauty,  she  thought  him  something  more 
than  mortal.  The  heart  ef  the  gentle  donzella,  says  the  ancient 
chronicler,  was  kind  and  yielding;  and  had  Pelayo  thought  fit 
to  ask  the  greatest  boon  that  love  and  beauty  could  bestow — 
doubtless  meaning  her  fair  hand — she  could  not  have  had  the 
cruelty  to  say  him  nay.  Pelayo,  however,  had  no  such 
thoughts :  the  love  of  woman  had  never  yet  entered  his  heart ; 
and  though  he  regarded  the  damsel  as  the  fairest  maiden  he 
had  ever  beheld,  her  beauty  caused  no  perturbation  in  his 
breast. 

When  the  repast  was  over,  Pelayo  offered  to  conduct  the 
merchant  and  his  family  through  the  defiles  of  the  mountains, 
lest  they  should  be  molested  by  any  of  the  scattered  band  of 
robbers.  The  bodies  of  the  slain  marauders  were  buried,  and 
the  corpse  of  the  servant  was  laid  upon  one  of  the  horses  cap 
tured  in  the  battle.  Having  formed  their  cavalcade,  they  pur 
sued  their  way  slowly  up  one  of  the  steep  and  winding  passes 
of  the  Pyrenees. 

Toward  sunset,  they  arrived  at  the  dwelling  of  a  holy  hermit. 
It  was  hewn  out  of  the  li ving  rock ;  there  was  a  cross  over  the 
door,  and  before  it  was  a  great  spreading  oak,  with  a  sweet 
spring  of  water  at  its  foot.  The  body  of  the  faithful  servant 
who  had  fallen  in  the  defence  of  his  lord,  was  buried  close  by 
the  wall  of  this  sacred  retreat,  and  the  hermit  promised  to  per 
form  masses  for  the  repose  of  his  soul.  Then  Pelayo  obtained 
from  the  holy  father  consent  that  the  merchant's  wife  and 
daughter  should  pass  the  night  within  his  cell ;  and  the  hermit 
made  beds  of  moss  for  them,  and  gave  them  his  benediction ; 
but  the  damsel  found  little  rest,  so  much  were  her  thoughts 


PELATO  AND  THE  MERCHANT'S  DAUGHTER.     125 

occupied  by  the  youthful  champion  who  had  rescued  her  from 
death  or  dishonor. 

Pelayo,  however,  was  visited  by  no  such  wandering  of  the 
mind ;  but,  wrapping  himself  in  his  mantle,  slept  soundly  by 
the  fountain  under  the  tree.  At  midnight,  when  every  thing 
was  buried  in  deep  repose,  he  was  awakened  from  his  sleep 
and  beheld  the  hermit  before  him,  with  the  beams  of  the  moon 
shining  upon  his  silver  hair  and  beard. 

"This  is  no  time,"  said  the  latter,  "to  be  sleeping;  arise  and 
listen  to  my  words,  and  hear  of  the  great  work  for  which  thou 
art  chosen !" 

Then  Pelayo  arose  and  seated  himself  on  a  rock,  and  the 
hermit  continued  his  discourse. 

"  Behold,"  said  he,  "  the  ruin  of  Spain  is  at  hand !  It  will  be 
delivered  into  the  hands  of  strangers,  and  will  become  a  prey 
to  the  spoiler.  Its  children  will  be  slain  or  carried  into  capti 
vity  ;  or  such  as  may  escape  these  evils,  will  harbor  with  the 
beasts  of  the  forest  or  the  eagles  of  the  mountain.  The  thorn 
and  bramble  will  spring  up  where  now  are  seen  the  corn 
field,  the  vine,  and  the  olive ;  and  hungry  wolves  will  roam  in 
place  of  peaceful  flocks  and  herds.  But  thou,  my  son !  tarry 
not  thou  to  see  these  things,  for  thou  canst  not  prevent  them. 
Depart  on  a  pilgrimage  to  the  sepulchre  of  our  blessed  Lord  in 
Palestine ;  purify  thyself  by  prayer ;  enroll  thyself  in  the  order 
of  chivalry,  and  prepare  for  the  great  work  of  the  redemption 
of  thy  country ;  for  to  thee  it  will  be  given  to  raise  it  from  the 
depth  of  its  affliction." 

Pelayo  would  have  inquired  farther  into  the  evils  thus  fore 
told,  but  the  hermit  rebuked  his  curiosity. 

"  Seek  not  to  know  more,"  said  he,  "than  heaven  i&  pleased 
to  reveal.  Clouds  and  darkness  cover  its  designs,  and  pro 
phecy  is  never  permitted  to  lift  up  but  in  part  the  veil  that 
rests  upon  the  future." 

The  hermit  ceased  to  speak,  and  Pelayo  laid  himself  down 
again  to  take  repose,  but  sleep  was  a  stranger  to  his  eyes. 

When  the  first  rays  of  the  rising  sun  shone  upon  the  tops  of 
the  mountains,  the  travellers  assembled  round  the  fountain 
beneath  the  tree  and  made  their  morning's  repast.  Then, 
having  received  the  benediction  of  the  hermit,  they  departed 
in  the  freshness  of  the  day,  and  descended  along  the  hollow 
defiles  leading  into  the  interior  of  Spain.  The  good  merchant 
was  refreshed  by  sleep  and  by  his  morning's  meal ;  and  when 
he  beheld  his  wife  and  daugliter  thus  secure  by  his  side,  and 


126          WOLFJSKT'8  BOOST  AND  MISCELLANIES. 

the  hackney  laden  with  his  treasure  close  behind  him,  his 
heart  was  light  in  his  bosom,  and  he  carolled  a  chanson  as  he 
went,  and  the  woodlands  echoed  to  his  song.  But  Pelayo  rode 
in  silence,  for  he  revolved  in  his  mind  the  portentous  words  of 
the  hermit ;  and  the  daughter  of  the  merchant  ever  and  anon 
stole  looks  at  him  full  of  tenderness  and  admiration,  and  deep 
sighs  betrayed  the  agitation  of  her  bosom. 

At  length  they  came  to  the  foot  of  the  mountains,  where  the 
forests  and  the  rocks  terminated,  and  an  open  and  secure 
country  lay  before  the  travellers.  Here  they  halted,  for  their 
roads  were  widely  different.  When  they  came  to  part,  the 
merchant  and  his  wife  were  loud  in  thanks  and  benedictions, 
and  the  good  burgher  would  fain  have  given  Pelayo  the  largest 
of  his  sacks  of  gold ;  but  the  young  man  put  it  aside  with  a 
smile.  "  Silver  and  gold,"  said  he,  "  need  I  not,  but  if  I  have 
deserved  aught  at  thy  hands,  give  me  thy  prayers,  for  the 
prayers  of  a  good  man  are  above  all  price." 

In  the  mean  time  the  daughter  had  spoken  never  a  word. 
At  length  she  raised  her  eyes,  which  were  filled  with  tears,  and 
looked  timidly  at  Pelayo,  and  her  bosom  throbbed ;  and  after  a 
violent  struggle  between  strong  affection  and  virgin  modesty, 
her  heart  relieved  itself  by  words. 

"Senor,"  said  she,  "I  know  that  I  am  unworthy  of  the 
notice  of  so  noble  a  cavalier ;  but  suffer  me  to  place  this  ring 
upon  a  finger  of  that  hand  which  has  so  bravely  rescued  us 
from  death;  and  when  you  regard  it,  you  may  consider  it 
as  a  memorial  of  your  own  valor,  and  not  of  one  who  is  too 
humble  to  be  remembered  by  you." 

With  these  words,  she  drew  a  ring  from  her  finger  and  put 
it  upon  the  finger  of  Pelayo ;  and  having  done  this,  she  blushed 
and  trembled  at  her  own  boldness,  and  stood  as  one  abashed, 
with  her  eyes  cast  down  upon  the  earth. 

Pelayo  was  moved  at  the  words  of  the  simple  maiden,  and  at 
the  touch  of  her  fair  hand,  and  at  her  beauty,  as  she  stood  thus 
trembling  and  in  tears  before  him ;  but  as  yet  he  knew  nothing 
of  woman,  and  his  heart  was  free  from  the  snares  of  love. 
"Amiga,"  (friend,)  said  he,  "I  accept  thy  present,  and  will 
wear  it  in  remembrance  of  thy  goodness ;"  so  saying,  he  kissed 
her  on  the  cheek. 

The  damsel  was  cheered  by  these  words,  and  hoped  that  she 
had  awakened  some  tenderness  in  his  bosom;  but  it  was  no 
such  thing,  says  the  grave  old  chronicler,  for  his  heart  was 


THE  KNIGIIT  OF  MALTA.  127 

devoted  to  higher  and  more  sacred  matters;  yet  certain  it  is, 
thac  he  always  guarded  well  that  ring. 

When  they  parted,  Pelayo  remained  with  his  huntsmen  on  a 
cliff,  watching  that  no  evil  befell  them,  until  they  were  far 
beyond  the  skirts  of  the  mountain;  and  the  damsel  often 
turned  to  look  at  him,  until  she  could  no  longer  discern  him, 
for  the  distance  and  the  tears  that  dimmed  her  eyes. 

And  for  that  he  had  accepted  her  ring,  says  the  ancient 
chronicler,  she  considered  herself  wedded  to  him  in  her  heart, 
and  would  never  marry ;  nor  could  she  be  brought  to  look  with 
eyes  of  affection  upon  any  other  man;  but  for  the  true  love 
which  she  bore  Pelayo,  she  lived  and  died  a  virgin.  And  she 
composed  a  book  which  treated  of  love  and  chivalry,  and  the 
temptations  of  this  mortal  life;  and  one  part  discoursed  of 
celestial  matters,  and  it  was  called  ' '  The  Contemplations  of 
Love ;"  because  at  the  time  she  wrote  it,  she  thought  of  Pelayo, 
and  of  his  having  accepted  her  jewel  and  called  her  by  the 
gentle  appellation  of  "Amiga."  And  often  thinking  of  him  in 
tender  sadness,  and  of  her  never  having  beheld  him  more,  she 
would  take  the  book  and  would  read  it  as  if  in  his  stead ;  and 
while  she  repeated  the  words  of  love  which  it  contained,  she 
would  endeavor  to  fancy  them  uttered  by  Pelayo,  and  that  he 
stood  before  her. 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  MALTA. 

TO  THE  EDITOR  OF  THE  KNICKERBOCKER 
£ 

SlR:  In  the  course  of  a  tour  which  I  made  in  Sicily,  in  the 
days  of  my  juvenility,  I  passed  some  little  time  at  the  ancient 
city  of  Catania,  at  the  foot  of  Mount  JEtna.  Here  I  became 

acquainted  with  the  Chevalier  L ,  an  old  Knight  of  Malta. 

It  was  not  many  years  after  the  tune  that  Napoleon  had  dis 
lodged  the  knights  from  their  island,  and  he  still  wore  the 
insignia  of  his  order.  He  was  not,  however,  one  of  those 
reliques  of  that  once  chivalrous  body,  who  had  been  described 
as  "a  few  worn-out  old  men,  creeping  about  certain  parts  of 
Europe,  with  the  Maltese  cross  on  their  breasts ;"  on  the  contrary, 
though  advanced  in  lif e,  his  form  was  still  light  and  vigorous ; 
he  had  a  pale,  thin,  intellectual  visage,  with  a  high  forehead, 
and  a  bright,  visionary  eye.  He  seemed  to  take  a  fancy  to  me, 


128  WOLFERT'S  ROOST  AND  MISCELLANIES. 

as  I  certainly  did  to  him,  and  we  soon  became  intimate.  7 
visited  him  occasionally,  at  his  apartments,  in  the  wing  of  an 
old  palace,  looking  toward  Mount  ^Etna.  He  was  an  antiquary, 
a  virtuoso,  and  a  connoisseur.  His  rooms  were  decorated  with 
mutilated  statues,  dug  up  from  Grecian  and  Roman  ruins ;  old 
vases,  lachrymals,  and  sepulchral  lamps.  He  had  astronomical 
and  chemical  instruments,  and  black-letter  books,  in  various 
languages.  I  found  that  he  had  dipped  a  little  hi  chimerical 
studies,  and  had  a  hankering  after  astrology  and  alchymy. 
He  affected  to  behove  in  dreams  and  visions,  and  delighted  in 
the  fanciful  Rosicrucian  doctrines.  I  cannot  persuade  myself, 
however,  that  he  really  believed  in  all  these :  I  rather  think  he 
loved  to  let  his  imagination  carry  him  away  into  the  boundless 
fairy  land  which  they  unfolded. 

In  company  with  the  chevalier,  I  took  several  excursions  oi» 
horseback  about  the  environs  of  Catania,  and  the  picturesque 
skirts  of  Mount  .JStna.  One  of  these  led  through  a  village, 
which  had  sprung  up  on  the  very  tract  of  an  ancient  eruption, 
the  houses  being  built  of  lava.  At  one  time  we  passed,  for 
some  distance,  along  a  narrow  lane,  between  two  high  dead 
convent  walls.  It  was  a  cut-throat-looking  place,  in  a  country 
where  assassinations  are  frequent;  and  just  about  midway 
through  it,  we  observed  blood  upon  the  pavement  and  the 
walls,  as  if  a  murder  had  actually  been  committed  there. 

The  chevalier  spurred  on  his  horse,  until  he  had  extricated 
himself  completely  from  this  suspicious  neighborhood.  He 
then  observed,  that  it  reminded  him  of  a  similar  blind  alley  in 
Malta,  infamous  on  account  of  the  many  assassinations  that 
had  taken  place  there ;  concerning  one  of  which,  he  related  a 
long  and  tragical  story,  that  lasted  until  we  reached  Catania. 
It  involved  various  circumstances  of  a  wild  and  supernatural 
character,  but  which  he  assured  me  were  handed  down  in 
tradition,  and  generally  credited  by  the  old  inhabitants  of 
Malta. 

As  I  like  to  pick  up  strange  stories,  and  as  I  was  particularly 
struck  with  several  parts  of  this,  I  made  a  minute  of  it,  on  my 
return  to  my  lodgings.  The  memorandum  was  lost,  with 
several  others  of  my  travelling  papers,  and  the  story  had  faded 
from  my  mind,  when  recently,  in  perusing  a  French  memoir, 
I  came  suddenly  upon  it,  dressed  up,  it  is  true,  in  a  very 
different  manner,  but  agreeing  hi  the  leading  facts,  and  given 
upon  the  word  of  that  famous  adventurer,  the  Count  Cagliostro, 

I  have  amused  myself,  during  a  snowy  day  in  the  country, 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  MALTA.  129 

by  rendering  it  roughly  into  English,  for  the  entertainment  of 
a  youthful  circle  round  the  Christmas  fire.  It  was  well  received 
by  my  auditors,  who,  however,  are  rather  easily  pleased.  One 
proof  of  its  merits  is  that  it  sent  some  of  the  youngest  of  them 
quaking  to  their  beds,  and  gave  them  very  fearful  dreams. 
Hoping  that  it  may  have  the  same  effect  upon  your  ghost- 
hunting  readers,  I  offer  it,  Mr.  Editor,  for  insertion  in  your 
Magazine.  I  would  observe,  that  wherever  I  have  modified 
the  French  version  of  the  story,  it  has  been  in  conformity  to 
some  recollection  of  the  narrative  of  my  friend,  the  Knight  of 
Malta. 

Your  obt.  servt., 

GEOFFREY  CRAYON. 

THE  GRAND  PRIOR   OF  MINORCA. 

A  VERITABLE  GHOST  STORY. 

"  KEEP  my  wits,  heaven !    They  say  spirits  appear 
To  melancholy  minds,  and  the  graves  open !"— FLETCHER. 

ABOUT  the  middle  of  the  last  century,  while  the  Knights  of 
Saint  John  of  Jerusalem  still  maintained  something  of  their 
ancient  state  and  sway  in  the  Island  of  Malta,  a  tragical  event 
took  place  there,  which  is  the  groundwork  of  the  following 
narrative. 

It  m  ^y  be  as  well  to  premise,  that  at  the  time  we  are  treating 
of,  the  order  of  Saint  John  of  Jerusalem,  grown  excessively 
wealthy,  had  degenerated  from  its  originally  devout  and  war 
like  character.  Instead  of  being  a  hardy  body  of  "monk- 
knights,"  sworn  soldiers  of  the  cross,  fighting  the  Paynim  in 
the  Holy  Land,  or  scouring  the  Mediterranean,  and  scourging 
the  Barbary  coasts  with  their  galleys,  or  feeding  the  poor,  and 
attending  upon  the  sick  at  their  hospitals,  they  led  a  life  of 
luxury  and  libertinism,  and  were  to  be  found  in  the  most 
voluptuous  courts  of  Europe.  The  order,  in  fact,  had  become 
a  mode  of  providing  for  the  needy  branches  of  the  Catholic 
aristocracy  of  Europe.  "A  commandery,"  we  are  told,  was  a 
splendid  provision  for  a  younger  brother;  and  men  of  rank, 
however  dissolute,  provided  they  belonged  to  the  highest  aristo 
cracy,  became  Knights  of  Malta,  just  as  they  did  bishops,  or 
colonels  of  regiments,  or  court  chamberlains.  After  a  brief 
residence  at  Malta,  the  knights  passed  the  rest  of  their  time  in 


130  WOLFERT8  ROOST  AND  MISCELLANIES. 

their  own  countries,  or  only  made  a  visit  now  and  then  to  the 
island.  While  there,  having  but  little  military  duty  to  per 
form,  they  beguiled  their  idleness  by  paying  attentions  to  the 
fair. 

There  was  one  circle  of  fjociety,  however,  into  which  they 
could  not  obtain  currency.  This  was  composed  of  a  few  fami 
lies  of  the  old  Maltese  nobility,  natives  of  the  island.  These 
families,  not  being  permitted  to  enroll  any  of  their  members  in 
the  order,  affected  to  hold  no  intercourse  with  its  chevaliers ; 
admitting  none  into  their  exclusive  coteries  but  the  Grand 
Master,  whom  they  acknowledged  as  then*  sovereign,  and  the 
members  of  the  chapter  which  composed  his  council. 

To  indemnify  themselves  for  this  exclusion,  the  chevaliers 
carried  their  gallantries  into  the  next  class  of  society,  composed 
of  those  who  held  civil,  administrative,  and  judicial  situations. 
The  ladies  of  this  class  were  called  honorate,  or  honorables,  to 
distinguish  them  from  the  inferior  orders;  and  among  them 
were  many  of  superior  grace,  beauty,  and  fascination. 

Even  in  this  more  hospitable  class,  the  chevaliers  were  not 
all  equally  favored.  Those  of  Germany  had  the  decided  pre 
ference,  owing  to  their  fair  and  fresh  complexions,  and  the 
kindliness  of  their  manners:  next  to  these  came  the  Spanish 
cavaliers,  on  account  of  their  profound  and  courteous  devotion, 
and  most  discreet  secrecy.  Singular  as  it  may  seem,  the  che 
valiers  of  France  fared  the  worst.  The  Maltese  ladies  dreaded 
their  volatility,  and  their  proneness  to  boast  of  then-  amours, 
and  shunned  all  entanglement  with  them.  They  were  forced, 
therefore,  to  content  themselves  with  conquests  among  females 
of  the  lower  orders.  They  revenged  themselves,  after  the  gay 
French  manner,  by  making  the  "honorate"  the  objects  of  all 
kinds  of  jests  and  mystifications ;  by  prying  into  their  tender 
affairs  with  the  more  favored  chevaliers,  and  making  them  the 
theme  of  song  and  epigram. 

About  this  time,  a  French  vessel  arrived  at  Malta,  bringing 
out  a  distinguished  personage  of  the  order  of  Saint  John  of 
Jerusalem,  the  Commander  de  Foulquerre,  who  came  to  solicit 
the  post  of  commander-in-chief  of  the  galleys.  He  was  descended 
from  an  old  and  warrior  line  of  French  nobility,  his  ancestors 
having  long  been  seneschals  of  Poitou,  and  claiming  descent 
from  the  first  counts  of  Angouleme. 

The  arrival  of  the  commander  caused  a  little  uneasiness 
among  the  peaceably  inclined,  for  he  bore  the  character,  in  the 
island,  of  being  fiery,  arrogant,  and  quarrelsome.  He  had 


TEE  KNIGHT  OF  MALTA.  131 

already  been  three  times  at  Malta,  and  on  each  visit  had  signal 
ized  himself  by  some  rash  and  deadly  affray. 
As  he  was  now  thirty -five  years  of  age,  however,  it;  was  hoped 
that  time  might  have  taken  off  the  fiery  edge  of  his  spirit,  and 
that  he  might  prove  more  quiet  and  sedate  than  formerly. 
The  commander  set  up  an  establishment  befitting  his  rank  and 
pretensions ;  for  he  arrogated  to  himself  an  importance  greater 
even  than  that  of  the  Grand  Master.  His  house  immediately 
became  the  rallying  place  of  all  the  young  French  chevaliers. 
They  informed  him  of  all  the  slights  they  had  experienced  or 
imagined,  and  indulged  their  petulant  and  satirical  vein  at  the 
expense  of  the  honorate  and  their  admirers.  The  chevaliers  of 
other  nations  soon  found  the  topics  and  tone  of  conversation  at 
the  commander's  irksome  and  offensive,  and  gradually  ceased 
to  visit  there.  The  commander  remained  the  head  of  a  national 
clique,  who  looked  up  to  him  as  their  model.  If  he  was  not  as 
boisterous  and  quarrelsome  as  formerly,  he  had  become  haughty 
and  overbearing.  He  was  fond  of  talking  over  his  past  affairs 
of  punctilio  and  bloody  duel.  When  walking  the  streets,  he 
was  generally  attended  by  a  ruffling  train  of  young  French 
cavaliers,  who  caught  his  own  air  of  assumption  and  bravado. 
These  he  would  conduct  to  the  scenes  of  his  deadly  encounters, 
point  out  the  very  spot  where  each  fatal  lunge  had  been  given, 
and  dwell  vaingloriously  on  every  particular. 

Unde"  his  tuition,  the  young  French  chevaliers  began  to  add 
bluster  and  arrogance  to  their  former  petulance  and  levity; 
they  fired  up  on  the  most  trivial  occasions,  particularly  with 
those  who  had  been  most  successful  with  the  fair ;  and  would 
put  on  the  most  intolerable  drawcansir  airs.  The  other  che 
valiers  conducted  themselves  with  all  possible  forbearance  and 
reserve ;  but  they  saw  it  would  be  impossible  to  keep  on  long, 
in  this  manner,  without  coming  to  an  open  rupture. 

Among  the  Spanish  cavaliers  was  one  named  Don  Luis  de 
Lima  Vasconcellos.  He  was  distantly  related  to  the  Grand 
Master;  and  had  been  enrolled  at  an  early  a^e  among  his 
pages,  but  had  been  rapidly  promoted  by  him,  until,  at  the  age 
of  twenty-six,  he  had  been  given  the  richest  Spanish  comman- 
dery  in  the  order.  He  had,  moreover,  been  fortunate  with  the 
fair,  with  one  of  whom,  the  most  beautiful  honorata  of  Malta, 
he  had  long-  maintained  the  most  tender  correspondence. 

The  character,  rank,  and  connexions  of  Don  Luis  put  him 
on  a  par  with  the  imperious  Commander  de  Foulquerre,  and 
pointed  him  out  as  a  leader  and  champion  to  his  countrymen. 


132         WOLFERT'S  ROOST  AND  MISCELLANIES. 

The  Spanish  chevaliers  repaired  to  him,  therefore,  in  a  body ; 
represented  all  the  grievances  they  had  sustained,  and  the 
evils  they  apprehended,  and  urged  him  to  use  his  influence 
with  the  commander  and  his  adherents  to  put  a  stop  to  the 
growing  abuses. 

Don  Luis  was  gratified  by  this  mark  of  confidence  and  esteem 
on  the  part  of  his  countrymen,  and  promised  to  have  an  inter-  ^ 
view  with  the  Commander  de  Foulquerre  on  the  subject.  He 
resolved  to  conduct  himself  with  the  utmost  caution  and  deli 
cacy  on  the  occasion ;  to  represent  to  the  commander  the  evil 
consequences  which  might  result  from  the  inconsiderate  con 
duct  of  the  young  French  chevaliers,  and  to  entreat  him  to 
exert  the  great  influence  he  so  deservedly  possessed  over  them, 
to  restrain  their  excesses.  Don  Luis  was  aware,  however,  of 
the  peril  that  attended  any  interview  of  the  kind  with  this  im 
perious  and  fractious  man,  and  apprehended,  however  it  might 
commence,  that  it  would  terminate  in  a  duel.  Still,  it  was 
an  affair  of  honor,  in  which  Castilian  dignity  was  concerned, 
beside,  he  had  a  lurking  disgust  at  the  overbearing  manners  of 
De  Foulquerre,  and  perhaps  had  been  somewhat  offended  by 
certain  intrusive  attentions  which  he  had  presumed  to  pay  to 
the  beautiful  honorata. 

It  was  now  Holy  Week;  a  time  too  sacred  for  worldly  feuds 
and  passions,  especially  in  a  community  under  the  dominion  of 
a  religious  order;  it  was  agreed,  therefore,  that  the  dangerous 
interview  in  question  should  not  take  place  until  after  the 
Easter  holidays.  It  is  probable,  from  subsequent  circumstan 
ces,  that  the  Commander  de  Foulquerre  had  some  information 
of  this  arrangement  among  the  Spanish  chevaliers,  and  was 
determined  to  be  beforehand,  and  to  mortify  the  pride  of  their 
champion,  who  was  thus  preparing  to  read  him  a  lecture.  He 
chose  Good  Friday  for  his  purpose.  On  this  sacred  day,  it  is 
customary  in  Catholic  countries  to  make  a  tour  of  all  the 
churches,  offering  up  prayers  in  each.  In  every  Catholic 
church,  as  is  well  known,  there  is  a  vessel  of  holy  water  near 
the  door.  In  this,  every  one,  on  entering,  dips  his  fingers,  and 
makes  therewith  the  sign  of  the  cross  on  his  forehead  and 
breast.  An  office  of  gallantry,  among  the  young  Spaniards,  is 
to  stand  near  the  door,  dip  their  hands  in  the  holy  vessel,  and 
extend  theta  courteously  and  respectfully  to  any  lady  of  their 
acquaintance  who  may  enter ;  who  thus  receives  the  sacred 
water  at  second  hand,  on  the  tips  of  her  fingers,  and  proceeds 
to  cross  herself,  with  all  due  decorum.  The  Spaniards,  who 


TEE  KNIGHT  OF  MALTA.  133 

tire  the  most  jealous  of  lovers,  are  impatient  when  this  piece  of 
devotional  gallantry  is  proffered  to  the  object  of  their  affections 
by  any  other  hand:  on  Good  Friday,  therefore,  when  a  lady 
makes  a  tour  of  the  churches,  it  is  the  usage  among  them  for 
the  inamorato  to  follow  her  from  church  to  church,  so  as  to 
present  her  the  holy  water  at  the  door  of  each ;  thus  testifying 
his  own  devotion,  and  at  the  same  time  preventing  the  officious 
services  of  a  rival. 

On  the  day  in  question,  Don  Luis  followed  the  beautiful 
lionorata,  to  whom,  as  has  already  been  observed,  he  had 
long  been  devoted.  At  the  very  first  church  she  visited,  the 
Commander  de  Foulquerre  was  stationed  at  the  portal,  with 
several  of  the  young  French  chevaliers  about  him.  Before 
Don  Luis  could  offer  her  the  holy  water,  he  was  anticipated  by 
the  commander,  who  thrust  himself  between  them,  and,  while 
he  performed  the  gallant  office  to  the  lady,  rudely  turned  his 
back  upon  her  admirer,  and  trod  upon  his  feet.  The  insult  was 
enjoyed  by  the  young  Frenchmen  who  were  present :  it  was 
too  deep  and  grave  to  be  forgiven  by  Spanish  pride ;  and  at 
once  put  an  end  to  all  Don  Luis'  plans  of  caution  and  forbear 
ance.  He  repressed  his  passion  for  the  moment,  however,  and 
vraited  until  all  the  parties  left  the  church ;  then,  accosting  the 
commander  with  an  air  of  coolness  and  unconcern,  he  inquired 
after  his  >  ealth,  and  asked  to  what  church  he  proposed  making 
his  second  visit.  "  To  the  Magisterial  Church  of  Saint  John." 
Don  Luis  offered  to  conduct  him  thither,  by  the  shortest  route. 
His  offer  was  accepted,  apparently  without  suspicion,  and  they 
proceeded  together.  After  walking  some  distance,  they  entered 
a  long,  narrow  lane,  without  door  or  window  opening  upon  it, 
called  the  "  Strada  Stretta,"  or  narrow  street.  It  was  a  street 
in  which  duels  were  tacitly  permitted,  or  connived  at,  in  Malta, 
and  were  suffered  to  pass  as  accidental  encounters.  Every 
where  else  they  were  prohibited.  This  restriction  had  been 
instituted  to  diminish  the  number  of  duels,  formerly  so  fre 
quent  in  Malta.  As  a  farther  precaution  to  render  these  en 
counters  less  fatal,  it  was  an  offence,  punishable  with  death, 
for  any  one  to  enter  this  street  armed  with  either  poniard  or 
pistol.  It  was  a  lonely,  dismal  street,  just  wide  enough  for 
two  men  to  stand  upon  their  guard,  and  cross  their  swords; 
few  persons  ever  traversed  it,  unless  with  some  sinister  design; 
and  on  any  preconcerted  duello,  the  seconds  posted  themselves 
at  each  end,  to  stop  all  passengers,  and  prevent  interruption. 

In  the  present  instance,  the  parties  had  scarce  entered  the 


134  WOLFERTS  ROOST  AND  MISCELLANIES. 

street,  when  Don  Luis  drew  his  sword,  and  called  upon  the 
commander  to  defend  himself. 

De  Foulquerre  was  evidently  taken  by  surprise:  he  drew 
back,  and  attempted  to  expostulate ;  but  Don  Luis  persisted  in 
defying  him  to  the  combat. 

After  a  second  or  two,  he  likewise  drew  his  sword,  but  im 
mediately  lowered  the  point. 

"  Good  Friday  I"  ejaculated  he,  shaking  his  head :  "  one  woi  1 
with  you ;  it  is  full  six  years  since  I  have  been  in  a  conies- 
sional:  I  am  shocked  at  the  state  of  my  conscience;  but  within 
three  days — that  is  to  say,  on  Monday  next " 

Don  Luis  would  listen  to  nothing.  Though  naturally  of  a 
peaceable  disposition,  he  had  been  stung  to  fury,  and  people  of 
that  character,  when  once  incensed,  are  deaf  to  reason.  He 
compelled  the  commander  to  put  himself  on  his  guard.  The 
latter,  though  a  man  accustomed  to  brawl  in  battle,  was  singu 
larly  dismayed.  Terror  was  visible  in  all  his  features.  He 
placed  himself  with  his  back  to  the  wall,  and  the  weapons  were 
crossed.  The  contest  was  brief  and  fatal.  At  the  very  first 
thrust,  the  sword  of  Don  Luis  passed  through  the  body  of  his 
antagonist.  The  commander  staggered  to  the  wall,  and  leaned 
against  it. 

"  On  Good  Friday !"  ejaculated  he  again,  with  a  failing  voice, 
and  despairing  accents.  "Heaven  pardon  you!"  added  he, 
"take  my  sword  to  Tetefoulques,  and  have  a  hundred  masses 
performed  in  the  chapel  of  the  castle,  for  the  repose  of  my 
soul !"  With  these  words  he  expired. 

The  fury  of  Don  Luis  was  at  an  end.  He  stood  aghast,  gaz 
ing  at  the  bleeding  body  of  the  commander.  He  called  to  mind 
the  prayer  of  the  deceased  for  three  days'  respite,  to  make  hiu 
peace  with  heaven;  he  had  refused  it;  had  sent  him  to  the 
grave,  with  all  his  sins  upon  his  head  I  His  conscience  smote 
him  to  the  core ;  he  gathered  up  the  sword  of  the  commander, 
which  he  had  been  enjoined  to  take  to  Tetefoulques,  and  hur 
ried  from  the  fatal  Sbrada  Stretta. 

The  duel  of  course  made  a  great  noise  in  Malta,  but  had  no 
injurious  effect  upon  the  worldly  fortunes  of  Don  Luis.  He 
made  a  full  declaration  of  the  whole  matter,  before  the  proper 
authorities ;  the  Chapter  of  the  Order  considered  it  one  of  those 
casual  encounters  of  the  Strada  Stretta,  which  were  mourned 
over,  but  tolerated ;  the  public,  by  whom  the  late  commander 
had  been  generally  detested,  declared  that  he  had  deserved  his 
fate.  It  was  but  three  days  after  the  event,  that  Don  Luis  was 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  MALTA.  135 

advanced  to  one  of  the  highest  dignities  of  the  Order,  being  in 
vested  by  the  Grand  Master  with  the  priorship  of  the  kingdom 
of  Minorca. 

From  that  time  forward,  however,  the  whole  character  and 
conduct  of  Don  Luis  underwent  a  change.  He  became  a  prey 
to  a  dark  melancholy,  which  nothing  could  assuage.  The  most 
austere  piety,  the  severest  penances,  had  no  effect  in  allaying 
the  horror  which  preyed  upon  his  mind.  He  was  absent  for  a 
long  time  from  Malta ;  having  gone,  it  was  said,  on  remote  pil 
grimages  :  when  he  returned,  he  was  more  haggard  than  ever. 
There  seemed  something  mysterious  and  inexplicable  in  this 
disorder  of  his  mind.  The  following  is  the  revelation  made  by 
himself,  of  the  horrible  visions,  or  chimeras,  by  which  he  was 
haunted : 

"  When  I  had  made  my  declaration  before  the  Chapter,"  said 
he,  ' '  and  my  provocations  were  publicly  known,  I  had  made 
my  peace  with  man ;  but  it  was  not  so  with  God,  nor  with  my 
confessor,  nor  with  my  own  conscience.  My  act  was  doubly 
criminal,  from  the  day  on  which  it  was  committed,  and  from 
my  refusal  to  a  delay  of  three  days,  for  the  victim  of  my  resent 
ment  to  receive  the  sacraments.  His  despairing  ejaculation, 
'  Good  Friuay !  Good  Friday ! '  continually  rang  in  my  ears. 
'  Why  did  I  not  grant  the  respite ! '  cried  I  to  myself ; '  was  it  not 
enough  to  kill  the  body,  but  must  I  seek  to  kill  the  soul  1 ' 

"On  the  night  of  the  following  Friday,  I  started  suddenly 
from  my  sleep.  An  unaccountable  horror  was  upon  me.  1 
looked  wildly  around.  It  seemed  as  if  I  were  not  in  my  apart 
ment,  nor  in  my  bed,  but  in  the  fatal  Strada  Stretta,  lying  on 
the  pavement.  I  again  saw  the  commander  leaning  against 
the  wall ;  I  again  heard  his  dying  words :  '  Take  my  sword  to 
Tetefoulques,  and  have  a  hundred  masses  performed  in  the 
chapel  of  the  castle,  for  the  repose  of  my  soul ! ' 

' '  On  the  following  night,  I  caused  one  of  my  servants  to  sleep 
in  the  same  room  with  me.  I  saw  and  heard  nothing,  either 
on  that  night,  or  any  of  the  nights  following,  until  the  next 
Friday ;  when  I  had  again  the  same  vision,  with  this  difference, 
that  my  valet  seemed  to  be  lying  at  some  distance  from  me  on 
the  pavement  of  the  Strada  Stretta.  The  vision  continued  to 
be  repeated  on  every  Friday  night,  the  commander  always 
appearing  in  the  same  manner,  and  uttering  the  same  words  : 
'  Take  my  sword  to  Tetefoulques,  and  have  a  hundred  masses 
performed  in  the  chapel  of  the  castle  for  the  repose  of  my 
soul!' 


136  WOLFRlirS  ROOST  AND  MISCELLANIES. 

"  On  questioning  my  servant  on  the  subject,  he  stated,  that 
on  these  occasions  he  dreamed  that  he  was  lying  in  a  very 
narrow  street,  but  he  neither  saw  nor  heard  any  thing  of  the 
commander. 

"I  knew  nothing  of  this  Tetefoulques,  whither  the  defunct 
was  so  urgent  I  should  carry  his  sword.  I  made  inquiries, 
therefore,  concerning  it  among  the  French  chevaliers.  They 
informed  me  that  it  was  an  old  castle,  situated  about  four 
leagues  from  Poitiers,  in  the  midst  of  a  forest.  It  had  been 
built  in  old  times,  several  centuries  since,  by  Foulques  Taille- 
fer,  (or  Fulke  Hackiron,)  a  redoubtable,  hard-fighting  Count 
of  Angouleme,  who  gave  it  to  an  illegitimate  son,  afterward 
created  Grand  Seneschal  of  Poitou,  which  son  became  the  pro 
genitor  of  the  Foulquerres  of  Tetefoulques,  hereditary  Sene 
schals  of  Poitou.  They  farther  informed  me,  that  strange  sto 
ries  were  told  of  this  old  castle,  in  the  surrounding  country 
and  that  it  contained  many  curious  reliques.  Among  these, 
were  the  arms  of  Foulques  Taillefer,  together  with  all  those  of 
the  warriors  he  had  slain;  and  that  it  was  an  immemorial 
usage  with  the  Foulquerres  to  have  the  weapons  deposited 
there  which  they  had  wielded  either  hi  war  or  in  single  combat. 
This,  then,  was  the  reason  of  the  dying  injunction  of  the  com 
mander  respecting  his  sword.  I  carried  this  weapon  with  me, 
wherever  I  went,  but  still  I  neglected  to  comply  with  his  re 
quest. 

"  The  visions  still  continued  to  harass  me  with  undiminished 
horror.  I  repaired  to  Eome,  where  I  confessed  myself  to  the 
Grand  Cardinal  penitentiary,  and  informed  him  of  the  terrors 
with  which  I  was  haunted.  He  promised  me  absolution,  after 
I  should  have  performed  certain  acts  of  penance,  the  principal 
of  which  was,  to  execute  the  dying  request  of  the  commander, 
by  carrying  the  sword  to  Tetefoulques,  and  having  the  hundred 
masses  performed  in  the  chapel  of  the  castle  for  the  repose  of 
his  soul. 

"I  set  out  for  France  as  speedily  as  possible,  and  made  no 
delay  in  my  journey.  On  arriving  at  Poitiers,  I  found  that 
the  tidings  of  the  death  of  the  commander  had  reached  there, 
but  had  caused  no  more  affliction  than  among  the  people  of 
Malta.  Leaving  my  equipage  in  the  town,  I  put  on  the  garb  of 
a  pilgrim,  and  taking  a  guide,  set  out  on  foot  for  Tetef  otilques. 
Indeed  the  roads  in  this  part  of  the  country  were  impracticable 
for  carriages. 

"  I  found  the  castle  of  Tetefoulques  a  grand  but  gloomy  and 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  MALTA.  137 

dilapidated  pile.  All  the  gates  were  closed,  and  there  reigned 
over  the  whole  place  an  air  of  almost  savage  loneliness  and 
desertion.  I  had  understood  that  its  only  inhabitants  were  the 
concierge,  or  warder,  and  a  kind  of  hermit  who  had  charge  of 
the  chapel.  After  ringing  for  some  time  at  the  gate,  I  at 
length  succeeded  in  bringing  forth  the  warder,  who  bowed 
with  reverence  to  my  pilgrim's  garb.  I  begged  him  to  conduct 
me  to  the  chapel,  that  being  the  end  of  my  pilgrimage.  We 
found  the  hermit  there,  chanting  the  funeral  service ;  a  dismal 
sound  to  one  who  came  to  perform  a  penance  for  the  death  of 
a  member  of  the  family.  When  he  had  ceased  to  chant,  I 
informed  him  that  I  came  to  accomplish  an  obligation  of  con 
science,  and  that  I  wished  him  to  perform  a  hundred  masses 
for  the  repose  of  the  soul  of  the  commander.  He  replied  that, 
not  being  in  orders,  he  was  not  authorized  to  perform  mass, 
but  that  he  would  willingly  undertake  to  see  that  my  debt  of 
conscience  was  discharged.  I  laid  my  offering  on  the  altar, 
and  would  have  placed  the  sword  of  the  commander  there, 
likewise.  '  Hold ! '  said  the  hermit,  with  a  melancholy  shake 
of  the  head,  'this  is  no  place  for  so  deadly  a  weapon,  that 
has  so  often  been  bathed  in  Christian  blood.  Take  it  to  the 
armory ;  you  will  find  there  trophies  enough  of  like  character. 
It  is  a  place  into  which  I  never  enter.' 

' '  The  warder  here  took  up  the  theme  abandoned  by  the  peace 
ful  man  of  God.  He  assured  me  that  I  would  see  in  the  armory 
the  swords  of  all  the  warrior  race  of  Foulquerres,  together 
with  those  of  the  enemies  over  whom  they  had  triumphed. 
This,  he  observed,  had  been  a  usage  kept  up  since  the  time  of 
Mellusine,  and  of  her  husband,  Geoffrey  a  la  Grand-dent,  or 
Geoffrey  with  the  Great-tooth. 

"I  followed  the  gossiping  warder  to  the  armory.  It  was  a 
great  dusty  hall,  hung  round  with  Gothic-looking  portraits,  of 
a  stark  line  of  warriors,  each  with  his  weapon,  and  the  wea 
pons  of  those  he  had  slain  in  battle,  hung  beside  his  picture. 
The  most  conspicuous  portrait  was  that  of  Foulques  Taillefer, 
(Fulke  Hackiron,)  Count  of  Angouleme,  and  founder  of  the 
castle.  He  was  represented  at  full  length,  armed  cap-a-pie, 
and  grasping  a  huge  buckler,  on  which  were  emblazoned  three 
lions  passant.  The  figure  was  so  striking,  that  it  seemed  ready 
to  start  from  the  canvas :  and  I  observed  beneath  this  picture, 
a  trophy  composed  of  many  weapons,  proofs  of  the  numerous 
triumphs  of  this  hard-fighting  old  cavalier.  Beside  the  wea 
pons  connected  with  the  portraits,  there  were  swords  of  alJ 


138  WOLFERT8  ROOST  AND  MISCELLANIES. 

shapes,  sizes,  and  centuries,  hung  round  the  ha1! ;  with  piles  of 
armor,  placed  as  it  were  in  effigy. 

"  On  each  side  of  an  immense  chimney,  were  suspended  the 
portraits  of  the  first  seneschal  of  Poitou  (the  illegitimate  son  of 
Foulques  Taillef er)  and  his  wife  Isabella  do  Lusignan ;  the  pro 
genitors  of  the  grim  race  of  Foulquerres  that  frowned  around. 
They  had  the  look  of  being  perfect  likenesses ;  and  as  I  gazed  on 
them,  I  fancied  I  could  trace  in  their  antiquated  features  some 
family  resemblance  to  their  unfortunate  descendant,  whom  I 
had  slain !  This  was  a  dismal  neighborhood,  yet  the  armory 
was  the  only  part  of  the  castle  that  had  a  habitable  air ;  so  I 
asked  the  warder  whether  he  could  not  make  a  fire,  and  give 
me  something  for  supper  there,  and  prepare  me  a  bed  in  one 
corner. 

'"A  fire  and  a  supper  you  shall  have,  and  that  cheerfully,  most 
worthy  pilgrim,'  said  he;  'but  as  to  a  bed,  I  advise  you 
to  come  and  sleep  in  my  chamber.' 

"  '  Why  so? '  inquired  I ;  '  why  shall  I  not  sleep  in  this  hall? ' 

" '  I  have  my  reasons;  I  will  make  a  bed  for  you  close  to 
mine.' 

"  I  made  no  objections,  for  I  recollected  that  it  was  Friday, 
and  I  dreaded  the  return  of  my  vision.  He  brought  in  billets 
of  wood,  kindled  a  fire  in  the  great  overhanging  chimney,  and 
then  went  forth  to  prepare  my  supper.  I  drew  a  heavy  chair 
before  the  fire,  and  seating  myself  in  it,  gazed  muzingly  round 
upon  the  portraits  of  the  Foulquerres,  and  the  antiquated 
armor  and  weapons,  the  mementos  of  many  a  bloody  deed.  As 
the  day  declined,  the  smoky  draperies  of  the  hall  gradually 
became  confounded  with  the  dark  ground  of  the  paintings,  and 
the  lurid  gleams  from  the  chimney  only  enabled  me  to  see 
visages  staring  at  me  from  the  gathering  darkness.  All  this 
was  dismal  in  the  extreme,  and  somewhat  appalling;  perhaps 
it  was  the  state  of  my  conscience  that  rendered  me  peculiarly 
sensitive,  and  prone  to  fearful  ima linings. 

"  At  length  the  warder  brought  in  my  supper.  It  consisted 
of  a  dish  of  trout,  and  some  crawfish  taken  in  the  fosse  of  the 
castle.  He  procured  also  a  bottle  of  wine,  which  he  informed 
me  was  wine  of  Poitou.  I  requested  him  to  invite  the  hermit 
to  join  me  in  my  repast ;  but  the  holy  man  sent  back  word  that 
he  allowed  himself  nothing  but  roots  and  herbs,  cooked  with 
water.  I  took  my  meal,  therefore,  alone,  but  prolonged  it  as 
much  as  possible,  and  sought  to  cheer  my  drooping  spirits  by 
the  wine  of  Poitou,  which  I  found  very  tolerable. 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  MALTA.  139 

"  When  supper  was  over,  I  prepared  for  my  evening  devo^ 
tions.  I  have  always  been  very  punctual  in  reciting  my  brevi 
ary  ;  it  is  the  prescribed  and  bounden  duty  of  all  chevaliers  of 
the  religious  orders;  and  I  can  answer  for  it,  is  faithfully 
performed  by  those  of  Spain.  I  accordingly  drew  forth  from 
my  pocket  a  small  missal  and  a  rosary,  and  told  the  warder 
he  need  only  designate  to  me  the  way  to  his  chamber,  where  I 
could  come  and  rejoin  him,  when  I  had  finished  my  prayers. 

"He  accordingly  pointed  out  a  winding  stair-case,  opening 
from  the  hall.  'You  will  descend  this  stair-case,'  said  he, 
4  until  you  come  to  the  fourth  landing-place,  where  you  enter  a 
vaulted  passage,  terminated  by  an  arcade,  with  a  statue  of  the 
blessed  Jeanne  of  France ;  you  cannot  help  finding  my  room, 
the  door  of  which  I  will  leave  open ;  it  is  the  sixth  door  from 
the  landing-place.  I  advise  you  not  to  remain  in  this  hall  after 
midnight.  Before  that  hour,  you  will  hear  the  hermit  ring  the 
bell,  in  going  the  rounds  of  the  corridors.  Do  not  linger  here 
after  that  signal.' 

"The  warder  retired,  and  I  commenced  my  devotions.  I 
continued  at  them  earnestly ;  pausing  from  time  to  time  to  put 
wood  upon  the  fire.  I  did  not  dare  to  look  much  around  me, 
for  I  felt  myself  becoming  a  prey  to  fearful  fancies.  The  pic 
tures  appeared  to  become  animated.  If  I  regarded  one  atten 
tively,  for  any  length  of  time,  it  seemed  to  move  the  eyes  and 
lips.  Above  all,  the  portraits  of  the  Grand  Seneschal  and  his 
lady,  which  hung  on  each  side  of  the  great  chimney,  the  pro 
genitors  of  the  Foulquerres  of  Tetefoulque,  regarded  me,  I 
thought,  with  angry  and  baleful  eyes:  I  even  fancied  they 
exchanged  significant  glances  with  each  other.  Just  then  a 
terrible  blast  of  wind  shook  all  the  casements,  and,  rushing 
through  the  hall,  made  a  fearful  rattling  and  clashing  among 
the  armor.  To  my  startled  fancy,  it  seemed  something  super 
natural. 

"At  length  I  heard  the  bell  of  the  hermit,  and  hastened  to 
quit  the  hall.  Talcing  a  solitary  light,  which  stood  on  the  sup 
per-table,  I  descended  the  winding  stair-case ;  but  before  I  had 
reached  the  vaulted  passage  leading  to  the  statue  of  the  blessed 
Jeanne  of  France,  a  blast  of  wind  extinguished  my  taper.  I 
hastily  remounted  the  stairs,  to  light  it  again  at  the  chimney ; 
but  judge  of  my  f  eelings,  when,  on  arriving  at  the  entrance  to 
the  armory,  I  beheld  the  Seneschal  and  his  lady,  who  had 
descended  from  their  frames,  and  seated  themselves  on  each 
side  of  the  fire-place ! 


M!)  WOLFERTS  ROOST  AND  MISCELLANIES. 

" '  Madam,  my  love,'  said  the  Seneschal,  with  great  formality, 
and  in  antiquated  phrase,  'what  think  you  of  the  presump 
tion  of  this  Castilian,  who  comes  to  harbor  himself  and  make 
wassail  in  this  our  castle,  after  having  slain  our  descendant, 
the  commander,  and  that  without  granting  Him  time  for  con 
fession?  ' 

"  '  Truly,  my  lord,'  answered  the  female  spectre,  with  no  less 
etateliness  of  manner,  and  with  great  asperity  of  tone ;  '  truly, 
my  lord,  I  opine  that  this  Castihan  did  a  grievous  wrong  in  this 
encounter;  and  he  should  never  be  suffered  to  depart  hence, 
without  your  throwing  him  the  gauntlet.'  I  paused  to  hear  no 
more,  but  rushed  again  down-stairs,  to  seek  the  chamber  of  the 
warder.  It  was  impossible  to  find  it  in  the  darkness,  and  in  the 
perturbation  of  my  mind.  After  an  hour  and  a  half  of  fruitless 
search,  and  mortal  horror  and  anxieties,  I  endeavored  to  per 
suade  myself  that  the  day  was  about  to  break,  and  listened 
impatiently  for  the  crowing  of  the  cock;  for  I  thought  if  I  could 
hear  his  cheerful  note,  I  should  be  reassured;  catching,  in  the 
disordered  state  of  my  nerves,  at  the  popular  notion  that 
ghosts  never  appear  after  the  first  crowing  of  the  cock. 

"  At  length  I  rallied  myself,  and  endeavored  to  shake  off  the 
vague  terrors  which  haunted  me.  I  tried  to  persuade  myself 
that  the  two  figures  which  I  had  seemed  to  see  and  hear,  had 
existed  only  in  my  troubled  imagination.  I  still  had  the  end 
of  the  candle  in  my  hand,  and  determined  to  make  another 
effort  to  re-light  it,  and  find  my  way  to  bed ;  for  I  was  ready  to 
sink  with  fatigue.  I  accordingly  sprang  up  the  stair-case, 
three  steps  at  a  time,  stopped  at  the  door  of  the  armory,  and 
peeped  cautiously  in.  The  two  Gothic  figures  were  no  longer 
in  the  chimney  corners,  but  I  neglected  to  notice  whether  they 
had  reascended  to  their  frames.  I  entered,  and  made  desper 
ately  for  the  fire-place,  but  scarce  had  I  advanced  three  strides, 
when  Messire  Foulques  Taillefer  stood  before  me,  in  the  centre 
of  the  hall,  armed  cap-a-pie,  and  standing  in  guard,  with  the 
point  of  his  sword  silently  presented  to  me.  I  would  have 
retreated  to  the  stair-case,  but  the  door  of  it  was  occupied  by 
the  phantom  figure  of  an  esquire,  who  rudely  flung  a  gauntlet 
in  my  face.  Driven  to  fury,  I  snatched  down  a  sword  from  the 
wall :  by  chance,  it  was  that  of  the  commander  which  I  had 
placed  there.  I  rushed  upon  my  fantastic  adversary,  and 
seemed  to  pierce  him  through  and  through ;  but  at  the  same 
time  I  felt  as  if  something  pierced  my  heart,  burning  like  a 
red-hot  iron.  My  blood  inundated  the  hall,  and  I  fell  senseless, 


THE  KNIGHT  OF  MALTA.  141 

"WHEN  I  recovered  consciousness,  it  was  broad  day,  and  I 
found  myself  in  a  small  chamber,  attended  by  the  warder  and 
the  hermit.  The  former  told  me  that  on  the  previous  night,  he 
had  awakened  long  after  the  midnight  hour,  and  perceiving 
that  I  had  not  come  to  his  chamber,  he  had  furnished  himself 
with  a  vase  of  holy  water,  and  set  out  to  seek  me.  He  found 
uie  stretched  senseless  on  the  pavement  of  the  armory,  and 
bore  me  to  this  room.  I  spoke  of  my  wound,  and  of  the  quan 
tity  of  blood  that  I  had  lost.  He  shook  his  head,  and  knew 
nothing  about  it ;  and  to  my  surprise,  on  examination,  I  found 
myself  perfectly  sound  and  unharmed.  The  wound  and  blood, 
therefore,  had  been  all  delusion.  Neither  the  warder  nor  the 
hermit  put  any  questions  to  me,  but  advised  me  to  leave  the 
castle  as  soon  as  possible.  I  lost  no  time  in  complying  with 
their  counsel,  and  felt  my  heart  relieved  from  an  oppressive 
weight,  as  I  left  the  gloomy  and  fate-bound  battlements  of 
Tetefoulques  behind  me. 

' '  I  arrived  at  Bayonne,  on  my  way  to  Spain,  on  the  follow 
ing  Friday.  At  midnight  I  was  startled  from  my  sleep,  as  I 
had  formerly  been ;  but  it  was  no  longer  by  the  vision  of  the 
dying  commander.  It  was  old  Foulques  Taillefer  who  stood 
before  me,  armed  cap-a-pie,  and  presenting  the  point  of  his 
sword.  I  made  the  sign  of  the  cross,  and  the  spectre  vanished, 
but  I  received  the  same  red-hot  thrust  in  the  heart  which  I  had 
felt  in  the  armory,  and  I  seemed  to  be  bathed  in  blood.  I  would 
have  called  out,  or  have  arisen  from  my  bed  and  gone  ha  quest 
of  succor,  but  I  could  neither  speak  nor  stir.  This  agony  en 
dured  until  the  crowing  of  the  cock,  when  I  fell  asleep  again ; 
but  the  next  day  I  was  ill,  and  in  a  most  pitiable  state.  I 
have  continued  to  be  harassed  by  the  same  vision  every  Fri 
day  night ;  no  acts  of  penitence  and  devotion  have  been  able  to 
relieve  me  from  it ;  and  it  is  only  a  lingering  hope  in  divine 
mercy,  that  sustains  me,  and  enables  me  to  support  so  lamen 
table  a  visitation." 


The  Grand  Prior  of  Minorca  wasted  gradually  away  under 
this  constant  remorse  of  conscience,  and  this  horrible  incubus. 
He  died  some  time  after  having  revealed  the  preceding  particu 
lars  of  his  case,  evidently  the  victim  of  a  diseased  imagination. 

The  above  relation  has  been  rendered,  in  many  parts  Literally, 
from  the  French  memoir,  in  which  it  is  given  as  a  true  story : 
if  so,  it  is  one  of  those  instances  in  which  truth  is  more 
romantic  than  fiction  G.  C. 


142          WOLFERT'S  1100ST  AND  MISCELLANIES. 
LEGEND  OF  THE  ENGULPHED  CONVENT. 

BY  GEOFFREY  CRAYON,  GENT. 

AT  the  dark  and  melancholy  period  when  Don  Roderick  the 
Goth  and  his  chivalry  were  overthrown  on  the  banks  of  the 
Guadalete,  and  all  Spain  was  overrun  by  the  Moors,  great  was 
the  devastation  of  churches  and  convents  throughout  that 
pious  kingdom.  The  miraculous  fate  of  one  of  those  holy  piles 
is  thus  recorded  in  one  of  the  authentic  legends  of  those  days. 

On  the  summit  of  a  hill,  not  very  distant  from  the  capital 
city  of  Toledo,  stood  an  ancient  convent  and  chapel,  dedicated 
to  the  invocation  of  Saint  Benedict,  and  inhabited  by  a  sister 
hood  of  Benedictine  nuns.  This  holy  asylum  was  confined  to 
females  of  noble  lineage.  The  younger  sisters  of  the  highest 
families  were  here  given  in  religious  marriage  to  their  Saviour, 
in  order  that  the  portions  of  their  elder  sisters  might  be  in 
creased,  and  they  enabled  to  make  suitable  matches  on  earth, 
or  that  the  family  wealth  might  go  undivided  to  elder  brothers, 
and  the  dignity  of  their  ancient  houses  be  protected  from 
decay.  The  convent  was  renowned,  therefore,  for  enshrining 
within  its  walls  a  sisterhood  of  the  purest  blood,  the  most  im 
maculate  virtue,  and  most  resplendent  beauty,  of  all  Gothic 
Spain. 

When  the  Moors  overran  the  kingdom,  there  was  nothing 
that  more  excited  their  hostility  than  these  virgin  asylums. 
The  very  sight  of  a  convent-spire  was  sufficient  to  set  their 
Moslem  blood  in  a  foment,  and  they  sacked  it  with  as  fierce  a 
zeal  as  though  the  sacking  of  a  nunnery  were  a  sure  passport 
to  Elysium. 

Tidings  of  such  outrages  committed  in  various  parts  of  the 
kingdom  reached  this  noble  sanctuary  and  filled  it  with  dis 
may.  The  danger  came  nearer  and  nearer;  the  infidel  hosts 
were  spreading  all  over  the  country;  Toledo  itself  was  cap 
tured  ;  there  was  no  flying  from  the  convent,  and  no  security 
within  its  walls. 

In  the  midst  of  this  agitation,  the  alarm  was  given  one  day 
that  a  great  band  of  Saracens  were  spurring  across  the  plain. 
In  an  instant  the  whole  convent  was  a  scene  of  confusion. 
Some  of  the  nuns  wrung  their  fair  hands  at  the  windows; 
others  waved  their  veils  and  uttered  shrieks  from  the  tops  of 
the  towers,  vainly  hoping  to  draw  relief  from  a  country  over- 


LEGEND  OF  THE  ENGULPHED  CONVENT.        143 

run  by  the  foe.  The  sight  of  these  innocent  doves  thus  flutter 
ing  about  their  dove-cote,  but  increased  the  zealot  fury  of  tho 
whiskered  Moors.  They  thundered  at  the  portal,  and  at  every 
blow  the  ponderous  gates  trembled  on  their  hinges. 

The  nuns  now  crowded  round  the  abbess.  They  had  been 
accustomed  to  look  up  to  her  as  all-powerful,  and  they  now  im 
plored  her  protection.  The  mother  abbess  looked  with  a  rueful 
eye  upon  the  treasures  of  beauty  and  vestal  virtue  exposed  to 
such  imminent  peril.  Alas !  how  was  she  to  protect  them  from 
the  spoiler !  She  had,  it  is  true,  experienced  many  signal  inter 
positions  of  providence  in  her  individual  favor.  Her  early 
days  had  been  passed  amid  the  temptations  of  a  court,  where 
her  virtue  had  been  purified  by  repeated  trials,  from  none  of 
which  had  she  escaped  but  by  a  miracle.  But  were  miracles 
never  to  cease?  Could  she  hope  that  the  marvellous  protection 
shown  to  herself  would  be  extended  to  a  whole  sisterhood? 
There  was  no  other  resource.  The  Moors  were  at  the  thresh 
old  ;  a  few  moments  more  and  the  convent  would  be  at  their 
mercy.  Summoning  her  nuns  to  follow  her,  she  hurried  into 
the  chapel ;  and  throwing  herself  on  her  knees  before  the  image 
of  the  blessed  Mary,  "Oh,  holy  Lady!"  exclaimed  she,  "oh, 
most  pure  and  immaculate  of  virgins !  thou  seest  our  extremity. 
The  ravager  is  at  the  gate,  and  there  is  none  on  earth  to  help 
us !  Look  down  with  pity,  and  grant  that  the  earth  may  gape 
and  swallow  us  rather  than  that  our  cloister  vows  should  suf 
fer  violation!" 

The  Moors  redoubled  their  assault  upon  the  portal ;  the  gates 
gave  way,  with  a  tremendous  crash ;  a  savage  yell  of  exulta 
tion  arose ;  when  of  a  sudden  the  earth  yawned ;  down  sank  the 
convent,  with  its  cloisters,  its  dormitories,  and  all  its  nuns. 
The  chapel  tower  was  the  last  that  sank,  the  bell  ringing 
forth  a  peal  of  triumph  in  the  very  teeth  of  the  infidels. 


FORTY  years  had  passed  and  gone,  since  the  period  of  this 
miracle.  The  subjugation  of  Spain  was  complete.  The  Moors 
lorded  it  over  city  and  country;  and  such  of  the  Christian 
population  as  remained,  and  were  permitted  to  exercise  their 
religion,  did  it  in  humble  resignation  to  the  Moslem  sway. 

At  this  time,  a  Christian  cavalier,  of  Cordova,  hearing  that 
a  patriotic  band  of  his  countrymen  had  raised  the  standard  of 
the  cross  in  the  mountains  of  the  Asturias,  resolved  to  join 
them,  and  unite  in  breaking  the  yoke  of  bondage.  Secretly 


144  WOLFERTS  ROOST  AND  MISCELLANIES. 

arming  himself,  and  caparisoning  liis  steed,  he  set  forth  from 
Cordova,  and  pursued  his  course  by  unfrequented  mule-paths, 
and  along  the  diy  channels  made  by  winter  torrents.  His 
spirit  burned  with  indignation,  whenever,  on  commanding  a 
view  over  a  long  sweeping  plain,  he  beheld  the  mosque  swell 
ing  in  the  distance,  and  the  Arab  horsemen  careering  about, 
as  if  the  rightful  lords  of  the  soil.  Many  a  deep-drawn  sigh, 
and  heavy  groan,  also,  did  the  good  cavalier  utter,  on  pass 
ing  the  ruins  of  churches  and  convents  desolated  by  the  con 
querors. 

It  was  on  a  sultry  midsummer  evening,  that  this  wander 
ing  cavalier,  in  skirting  a  hill  thickly  covered  with  forest,  heard 
the  faint  tones  of  a  vesper  bell  sounding  melodiously  in  the 
air,  and  seeming  to  come  from  the  summit  of  the  hill.  The 
cavalier  crossed  himself  with  wonder,  at  this  unwonted  and 
Christian  sound.  He  supposed  it  to  proceed  from  one  of  those 
humble  chapels  and  hermitages  permitted  to  exist  through 
the  indulgence  of  the  Moslem  conquerors.  Turning  his  steed 
up  a  narrow  path  of  the  forest,  he  sought  this  sanctuary,  in 
hopes  of  finding  a  hospitable  shelter  for  the  night.  As  he 
advanced,  the  trees  threw  a  deep  gloom  around  him,  and 
the  bat  flitted  across  his  path.  The  bell  ceased  to  toll,  and 
all  was  silence. 

Presently  a  choir  of  female  voices  came  stealing  sweetly 
through  the  forest,  chanting  the  evening  service,  to  the  solemn 
accompaniment  of  an  organ.  The  heart  of  the  good  cavalier 
melted  at  the  sound,  for  it  recalled  the  happier  days  of  his 
country.  Urging  forward  his  weary  steed,  he  at  length  ar 
rived  at  a  broad  grassy  area,  on  the  summit  of  the  hill,  sur 
rounded  by  the  forest.  Here  the  melodious  voices  rose  in  full 
chorus,  like  the  swelling  of  the  breeze ;  but  whence  they  came, 
he  could  not  tell.  Sometimes  they  were  before,  sometimes 
behind  him ;  sometimes  in  the  air,  sometimes  as  if  from  within 
the  bosom  of  the  earth.  At  length  they  died  away,  and  a  holy 
stillness  settled  on  the  place. 

The  cavalier  gazed  around  with  bewildered  eye.  There 
was  neither  chapel  nor  convent,  nor  humble  hermitage,  to 
be  seen ;  nothing  but  a  moss-grown  stone  pinnacle,  rising  out 
of  the  centre  of  the  area,  surmounted  by  a  cross.  The  green 
sward  around  appeared  to  have  been  sacred  from  the  tread 
of  man  or  beast,  and  the  surrounding  trees  bent  toward  tho 
cross,  as  if  in  adoration. 

The  cavalier  felt  a  sensation  of  holy  awe.    He  alighted  and 


LEGEND  OF  THE  ENGULP11ED   CONVENT.         145 

tethered  his  steed  on  the  skirts  of  the  forest,  where  he  might 
crop  the  tender  herbage ;  then  approaching  the  cross,  he  knelt 
and  poured  forth  his  evening  prayers  before  this  relique  of 
the  Christian  days  of  Spain.  His  orisons  being  concluded, 
he  laid  himself  down  at  the  foot  of  the  pinnacle,  and  reclin 
ing  his  head  against  one  of  its  stones,  fell  into  a  deep  sleep. 

About  midnight,  he  was  awakened  by  the  tolling  of  a  bell, 
and  found  himself  lying  before  the  gate  of  an  ancient  con 
vent.  A  train  of  nuns  passed  by,  each  bearing  a  taper.  The 
cavalier  rose  and  followed  them  into  the  chapel;  in  the  cen 
tre  of  which  was  a  bier,  on  which  lay  the  corpse  of  an  aged 
nun.  The  organ  performed  a  solemn  requiem :  the  nuns  join 
ing  in  chorus.  When  the  funeral  service  was  finished,  a 
melodious  voice  chanted,  " Requiescat  in  pace!" — "May  she 
rest  in  peace !"  The  lights  immediately  vanished ;  the  whole 
passed  away  as  a  dream;  and  the  cavalier  found  himself  at 
the  foot  of  the  cross,  and  beheld,  by  the  faint  rays  of  the 
rising  moon,  his  steed  quietly  grazing  near  him. 

When  the  day  dawned,  the  cavalier  descended  the  hill,  and 
following  the  course  of  a  small  brook,  came  to  a  cave,  at  the 
entrance  of  which  was  seated  an  ancient  man,  clad  in  hermit's 
garb,  with  rosary  and  cross,  and  a  beard  that  descended  to  his 
girdle.  He  was  one  of  those  holy  anchorites  permitted  by  the 
Moors  to  live  unmolested  in  dens  and  caves,  and  humble  her 
mitages,  and  even  to  practise  the  rites  of  their  religion.  The 
cavalier  checked  his  horse,  and  dismounting,  knelt  and  craved 
a  benediction.  He  then  related  all  that  had  befallen  him  in 
the  night,  and  besought  the  hermit  to  explain  the  mystery. 

"What  thou  hast  heard  and  seen,  my  son,"  replied  the 
other,  "is  but  type  and  shadow  of  the  woes  of  Spain." 

He  then  related  the  foregoing  story  of  the  miraculous  de 
liverance  of  the  convent. 

"Forty  years,"  added  the  holy  man,  "have  elapsed  since 
'this  event,  yet  the  bells  of  that  sacred  edifice  are  still  heard, 
from  time  to  time,  sounding  from  under  ground,  together 
with  the  pealing  of  the  organ,  and  the  chanting  of  the  choir. 
The  Moors  avoid  this  neighborhood,  as  haunted  ground,  and 
the  whole  place,  as  thou  mayest  perceive,  has  become  covered 
with  a  thick  and  lonely  forest. " 

The  cavalier  listened  with  wonder  to  the  story  of  this  en- 
gulphed  convent,  as  related  by  the  holy  man.  For  three  days 
and  nights  did  they  keep  vigils  beside  the  cross ;  but  nothing 
more  was  to  be  seen  of  nun  or  convent.  It  is  supposed  that, 


146  WOLFERTS  ROOST  AND  MISCELLANIES. 

forty  years  having  elapsed,  the  natural  lives  of  all  the  nuna 
were  finished,  and  that  the  cavalier  had  beheld  the  obsequies 
of  the  last  of  the  sisterhood.  Certain  it  is,  that  from  that 
time,  bell,  and  organ,  and  choral  chant  have  never  more  been 
heard. 

The  mouldering  pinnacle,  surmounted  by  the  cross,  still 
remains  an  object  of  pious  pilgrimage.  Some  say  that  it 
anciently  stood  in  front  of  the  convent,  but  others  assert  that 
it  was  the  spire  of  the  sacred  edifice,  and  that,  when  the 
main  body  of  the  building  sank,  this  remained  above  ground, 
like  the  top-mast  of  some  tall  ship  that  has  foundered. 
These  pious  believers  maintain,  that  the  convent  is  miracu 
lously  preserved  entire  in  the  centre  of  the  mountain,  where, 
if  proper  excavations  were  made,  it  would  be  found,  with  all 
its  treasures,  and  monuments,  and  shrines,  and  reliques,  and 
the  tombs  of  its  virgin  nuns. 

Should  any  one  doubt  the  truth  of  this  marvellous  inter 
position  of  the  Virgin,  to  protect  the  vestal  purity  of  her 
votaries,  let  him  read  the  excellent  work  entitled  "  Espana 
Triumphante,"  written  by  Padre  Fray  Antonio  de  Sancta 
Maria,  a  bare-foot  friar  of  the  Carmelite  order,  and  he  will 
doubt  no  longer. 


THE  COUNT  VAN  HORN. 

DURING  the  minority  of  Louis  XV.,  while  the  Duke  of 
Orleans  was  Regent  of  France,  a  young  Flemish  nobleman, 
the  Count  Antoine  Joseph  Van  Horn,  made  his  sudden  ap 
pearance  in  Paris,  and  by  his  character,  conduct,  and  the  sub 
sequent  disasters  in  which  he  became  involved,  created  a  great 
sensation  in  the  high  circles  of  the  proud  aristocracy.  He 
was  about  twenty-two  years  of  age,  tall,  finely  formed,  with  a 
pale,  romantic  countenance,  and  eyes  of  remarkable  brilliancy 
and  wildness. 

He  was  of  one  of  the  most  ancient  and  highly-esteemed 
families  of  European  nobility,  being  of  the  line  of  the  Princes 
of  Horn  and  Overique,  sovereign  Counts  of  Hautekerke,  and 
hereditary  Grand  Veneurs  of  the  empire. 

The  family  took  its  name  from  the  little  town  and  seigneurie 
of  Horn,  in  Brabant ;  and  was  known  as  early  as  the  eleventh 
century  among  the  little  dynasties  of  the  Netherlands,  and 


THE  COUNT  VAN'  HORN.  147 

since  that  time  by  a  long  line  of  illustrious  generations.  At 
the  peace  of  Utrecht,  when  the  Netherlands  passed  under  sub 
jection  to  Austria,  the  House  of  Van  Horn  came  under  the 
domination  of  the  emperor.  At  the  time  we  treat  of,  two  of 
the  branches  of  this  ancient  house  were  extinct ;  the  third  and 
only  surviving  branch  was  represented  by  the  reigning  prince, 
Maximilian  Emanuel  Van  Horn,  twenty-four  years  of  age,  who 
resided  in  honorable  and  courtly  style  on  his  hereditary  do 
mains  at  Baussigny,  in  the  Netherlands,  and  his  brother,  the 
Count  Antoine  Joseph,  who  is  the  subject  of  this  memoir. 

The  ancient  house  of  Van  Horn,  by  the  intermarriage  of  its 
various "branches  with  the  noble  families  of  the  continent,  had 
become  widely  connected  and  interwoven  with  the  high  aris 
tocracy  of  Europe.  The  Count  Antoine,  therefore,  could  claim 
relationship  to  many  of  the  proudest  names  in  Paris.  In  fact, 
he  was  grandson,  by  the  mother's  side,  of  the  Prince  de  Ligne, 
and  even  might  boast  of  affinity  to  the  Eegent  (the  Duke  of 
Orleans)  himself.  There  were  circumstances,  however,  con 
nected  with  his  sudden  appearance  in  Paris,  and  his  previous 
story,  that  placed  him  in  what  is  termed  "a  false  position  ;"  a 
word  of  baleful  significance  in  the  fashionable  vocabulary  of 
France. 

The  young  count  had  been  a  captain  in  the  service  of  Aus 
tria,  but  had  been  cashiered  for  irregular  conduct,  and  for 
disrespect  to  Prince  Louis  of  Baden,  commander- in-chief.  To 
check  him  in  his  wild  career,  and  bring  him  to  sober  reflection, 
his  brother  the  prince  caused  him  to  be  arrested  and  sent  to 
the  old  castle  of  Van  Wert,  in  the  domains  of  Horn.  This  was 
the  same  castle  in  which,  in  former  times,  John  Van  Horn, 
Stadtholder  of  Gueldres,  had  imprisoned  his  father  ;  a  circum 
stance  which  has  furnished  Rembrandt  with  the  subject  of  an 
admirable  painting.  The  governor  of  the  castle  was  one  Van 
Wert,  grandson  of  the  famous  John  Van  Wert,  the  hero  of 
many  a  popular  song  and  legend.  It  was  the  intention  of  the 
prince  that  his  brother  should  be  held  in  honorable  durance, 
for  his  object  was  to  sober  and  improve,  not  to  punish  and 
afflict  him.  Van  Wert,  however,  was  a  stern,  harsh  man  of 
riolent  passions.  He  treated  the  youth  in  a  manner  that  pri 
soners  and  offenders  were  treated  in  the  strong-holds  of  the 
robber  counts  of  Germany  in  old  times ;  confined  him  in  a 
dungeon  and  inflicted  on  him  such  hardships  and  indignities 
that  the  irritable  temperament  of  the  young  count  was  roused 
to  continual  fury,  which  ended  in  insanity.  For  six  months 


148  WOLFERTS  ROOST  AND  MISCELLANIES 

was  the  unfortunate  youth  kept  in  this  horrible  state,  without 
his  brother  the  prince  being  informed  of  his  melancholy  condi 
tion  or  of  the  cruel  treatment  to  which  he  was  subjected.  At 
length,  one  day,  in  a  paroxysm  of  frenzy,  the  count  knocked 
down  two  of  his  gaolers  with  a  beetle,  escaped  from  the  castle 
of  Van  Wert,  and  eluded  all  pursuit ;  and  after  roving  about 
in  a  state  of  distraction,  made  his  way  to  Baussigny  ant! 
appeared  like  a  sceptre  before  his  brother. 

The  prince  was  shocked  at  his  wretched,  emaciated  appear 
ance  and  his  lamentable  state  of  mental  alienation.  He  re 
ceived  him  with  the  most  compassionate  tenderness;  lodged 
him  in  his  own  room,  appointed  three  servants  to  attend  and 
watch  over  him  day  and  night,  and  endeavored  by  the  most 
soothing  and  affectionate  assiduity  to  atone  for  the  past  act  of 
rigor  with  which  he  reproached  himself.  When  he  learned, 
however,  the  manner  in  which  his  unfortunate  brother  had 
been  treated  in  confinement,  and  the  course  of  brutalities  that 
had  led  to  his  mental  malady,  he  was  roused  to  indignation. 
His  first  step  was  to  cashier  Van  Wert  from  his  command. 
That  violent  man  set  the  prince  at  defiance,  and  attempted  to 
maintain  himself  in  his  government  and  his  castle  by  instigat 
ing  the  peasants,  for  several  leagues  round,  to  revolt.  His 
insurrection  might  have  been  formidable  against  the  power  of 
a  petty  prince ;  but  he  was  put  under  the  ban  of  the  empire 
and  seized  as  a  state  prisoner.  The  memory  of  his  grandfather, 
the  oft-sung  John  Van  Wert,  alone  saved  him  from  a  gibbet ; 
but  he  was  imprisoned  in  the  strong  tower  of  Horn-op-Zee. 
There  he  remained  until  he  was  eighty -two  years  of  age,  sav 
age,  violent,  and  unconquered  to  the  last ;  for  we  are  told  that 
he  never  ceased  fighting  and  thumping  as  long  as  he  could 
close  a  fist  or  wield  a  cudgel. 

In  the  mean  time  a  course  of  kind  and  gentle  treatment  and 
wholesome  regimen,  and,  above  all,  the  tender  and  affectionntf 
assiduity  of  his  brother,  the  prince,  produced  the  most  salutary 
effects  upon  Count  Antoine.  He  gradually  recovered  his 
reason ;  but  a  degree  of  violence  seemed  always  lurking  at  the 
bottom  of  his  character,  and  he  required  to  be  treated  with  the 
greatest  caution  and  mildness,  for  the  least  contradiction  exas 
perated  him. 

In  this  state  of  mental  convalescence,  he  began  to  find  the 
supervision  and  restraints  of  brotherly  affection  insupportable ; 
BO  he  left  the  Netherlands  furtively,  and  repaired  to  Paris, 
whither,  in  fact,  it  is  said  he  was  called  by  motives  of  interest, 


THE  COUNT   VAN  HORN.  149 

to  make  arrangements  concerning  a  valuable  estate  which  he 
inherited  from  his  relative,  the  Princess  d'Epinay. 

On  his  arrival  in  Paris,  he  called  upon  the  Marquis  of  Crequi, 
and  other  of  the  high  nobility  with  whom  he  was  connected. 
He  was  received  with  great  courtesy ;  but,  as  he  brought  no 
letters  from  his  elder  brother,  the  prince,  and  as  various  cir 
cumstances  of  his  previous  history  had  transpired,  they  did 
not  receive  him  into  their  families,  nor  introduce  him  to  their 
ladies.  Still  they  feted  him  in  bachelor  style,  gave  him  gay 
and  elegant  suppers  at  their  separate  apartments,  and  took 
him  to  their  boxes  at  the  theatres.  He  was  often  noticed,  too, 
at  the  doors  of  the  most  fashionable  churches,  taking  his  stand 
among  the  young  men  of  fashion ;  and  at  such  times,  his  tall, 
elegant  figure,  his  pale  but  handsome  countenance,  and  his 
flashing  eyes,  distinguished  him  from  among  the  crowd ;  and 
the  ladies  declared  that  it  was  almost  impossible  to  support  his 
ardent  gaze. 

The  Count  did  not  afflict  himself  much  at  his  limited  circu 
lation  in  the  fastidious  circles  of  the  high  aristocracy.  He 
relished  society  of  a  wilder  and  less  ceremonious  cast;  and 
meeting  with  loose  companions  to  his  taste,  soon  ran  into  all 
the  excesses  of  the  capital,  in  that  most  licentious  period.  It 
is  said  that,  in  the  course  of  his  wild  career,  he  had  an  intrigue 
with  a  lady  of  quality,  a  favorite  of  the  Eegent ;  that  he  was 
surprised  by  that  prince  in  one  of  his  interviews ;  that  sharp 
words  passed  between  them ;  and  that  the  jealousy  and  ven 
geance  thus  awakened,  ended  only  with  his  Me. 

About  this  time,  the  famous  Mississippi  scheme  of  Law  was 
at  its  height,  or  rather  it  began  to  threaten  that  disastrous 
catastrophe  which  convulsed  the  whole  financial  world.  Every 
effort  was  making  to  keep  the  bubble  inflated.  The  vagrant 
population  of  France  was  swept  off  from  the  streets  at  night, 
and  conveyed  to  Havre  de  Grace,  to  be  shipped  to  the  pro 
jected  colonies ;  even  laboring  people  and  mechanics  were  thus 
crimped  and  spirited  away.  As  Count  Antoine  was  in  the 
habit  of  sallying  forth  at  night,  in  disguise,  in  pursuit  of  his 
pleasures,  he  came  near  being  carried  off  by  a  gang  of  crimps ; 
it  seemed,  in  fact,  as  if  they  had  been  lying  in  wait  for  him,  as 
he  had  experienced  very  rough  treatment  at  their  hands. 
Complaint  was  made  of  Ms  case  by  his  relation,  the  Marquis 
de  Crequi,  who  took  much  interest  in  the  youth ;  but  the  Mar 
quis  received  mysterious  intimations  not  to  interfere  in  the 
matter,  but  to  advise  the  Count  to  quit  Paris  immediately 


150  WOLFERT8  ROOST  AND  MISCELLANIES. 

"  If  he  lingers,  he  is  lost !"  This  has  been  cited  as  a  proof  that 
vengeance  was  dogging  at  the  heels  of  the  unfortunate  youth, 
and  only  watching  for  an  opportunity  to  destroy  him. 

Such  opportunity  occurred  but  too  soon.  Among  the  loose 
companions  with  whom  the  Count  had  become  intimate,  were 
two  who  lodged  in  the  same  hotel  with  him.  One  was  a  youth 
only  twenty  years  of  age,  who  passed  himself  off  as  the  Cheva 
lier  d'Etampes,  but  whose  real  name  was  Lestang,  the  prodi 
gal  son  of  a  Flemish  banker.  The  other,  named  Laurent  de 
Mille,  a  Piedmontese,  was  a  cashiered  captain,  and  at  the  time 
an  esquire  in  the  service  of  the  dissolute  Princess  de  Carignan, 
who  kept  gambling-tables  in  her  palace.  It  is  probable  that 
gambling  propensities  had  driven  these  young  men  together, 
and  that  their  losses  had  brought  them  to  desperate  measures : 
certain  it  is,  that  all  Paris  was  suddenly  astounded  by  a  mur 
der  which  they  were  said  to  have  committed.  "What  made  the 
crime  more  startling,  was,  that  it  seemed  connected  with  the 
great  Mississippi  scheme,  at  that  time  the  fruitful  source  of  all 
kinds  of  panics  and  agitations.  A  Jew,  a  stock-broker,  who 
dealt  largely  in  shares  of  the  bank  of  Law,  founded  on  the 
Mississippi  scheme,  was  the  victim.  The  story  of  his  death  is 
variously  related.  The  darkest  account  states,  that  the  Jew 
was  decoyed  by  these  young  men  into  an  obscure  tavern, 
under  pretext  of  negotiating  with  him  for  bank  shares  to  the 
amount  of  one  hundred  thousand  crowns,  which  he  had  with 
him  in  his  pocket-book.  Lestang  kept  watch  upon  the  stairs. 
The  Count  and  De  Mille  entered  with  the  Jew  into  a  chamber. 
In  a  little  while  there  were  heard  cries  and  struggles  from 
within.  A  waiter  passing  by  the  room,  looked  in,  and  seeing 
the  Jew  weltering  in  his  blood,  shut  the  door  again,  double- 
locked  it,  and  alarmed  the  house.  Lestang  rushed  down 
stairs,  made  his  way  to  the  hotel,  secured  his  most  portable 
effects,  and  fled  the  country.  The  Count  and  De  Mille  en 
deavored  to  escape  by  the  window,  but  were  both  taken,  and 
conducted  to  prison. 

A  circumstance  which  occurs  in  this  part  of  the  Count's 
story,  seems  to  point  him  out  as  a  fated  man.  His  mother, 
and  his  brother,  the  Prince  Van  Horn,  had  received  intelli 
gence  some  time  before  at  Baussigny,  of  the  dissolute  life  the 
Count  was  leading  at  Paris,  and  of  his  losses  at  play.  They 
despatched  a  gentleman  of  the  prince's  household  to  Paris,  to 
pay  the  debts  of  the  Count,  and  persuade  him  to  return  to 
Flanders;  or,  if  he  should  refuse,  to  obtain  an  order  from  the 


THE  COUNT  VAN  HORN.  151 

Regent  for  Vn'm  to  quit  the  capital.    Unfortunately  the  gentle 
man  did  not  arrive  at  Paris  until  the  day  after  the  murder. 

The  news  of  the  Count's  arrest  and  imprisonment  on  a 
charge  of  murder,  caused  a  violent  sensation  among  the  high 
aristocracy.  All  those  connected  with  him,  who  had  treated 
him  hitherto  with  indifference,  found  their  dignity  deeply  in 
volved  in  the  question  of  his  guilt  or  innocence.  A  general 
convocation  was  held  at  the  hotel  of  the  Marquis  de  Crequi,  of 
all  the  relatives  and  allies  of  the  house  of  Horn.  It  was  an  as 
semblage  of  the  most  proud  and  aristocratic  personages  of 
Paris.  Inquiries  were  made  into  the  circumstances  of  tho 
affair.  It  was  ascertained,  beyond  a  doubt,  that  the  Jew  was 
dead,  and  that  he  had  been  killed  by  several  stabs  of  a  pon 
iard.  In  escaping  by  the  window,  it  was  said  that  the  Count 
had  fallen,  and  been  immediately  taken ;  but  that  De  Mille  had 
fled  through  the  streets,  pursued  by  the  populace,  and  had  been 
arrested  at  some  distance  from  the  scene  of  the  murder;  that 
the  Count  had  declared  himself  innocent  of  the  death  of  the 
Jew,  and  that  he  had  risked  his  own  life  in  endeavoring  to 
protect  him ;  but  that  De  Mille,  on  being  brought  back  to  the 
tavern,  confessed  to  a  plot  to  murder  the  broker,  and  rob  him 
of  his  pocket-book,  and  inculpated  the  Count  in  the  crime. 

Another  version  of  the  story  was,  that  the  Count  Van  Horn 
had  deposited  with  the  broker,  bank  shares  to  the  amount  of 
eighty-eight  thousand  li vres ;  that  he  had  sought  him  in  this 
tavern,  which  was  one  of  his  resorts,  and  had  demanded  the 
shares;  that  the  Jew  had  denied  the  deposit;  that  a  quarrel 
had  ensued,  in  the  course  of  which  the  Jew  struck  the  Count 
in  the  face;  that  the  latter,  transported  with  rage,  had 
snatched  up  a  knife  from  a  table,  and  wounded  the  Jew  in 
the  shoulder ;  and  that  thereupon  De  Mille,  who  was  present, 
and  who  had  likewise  been  defrauded  by  the  broker,  fell  on 
him,  and  despatched  him  with  blows  of  a  poniard,  and  seized 
upon  his  pocket-book ;  that  he  had  offered  to  divide  the  con 
tents  of  the  latter  with  the  Count,  pro  rata,  of  what  the  usurer 
had  defrauded  them ;  that  the  latter  had  refused  the  proposi 
tion  with  disdain,  and  that,  at  a  noise  of  persons  approach 
ing,  both  had  attempted  to  escape  from  the  premises,  but  had 
been  taken. 

Regard  the  story  in  any  way  they  might,  appearances  were 
terribly  against  the  Count,  and  the  noble  assemblage  was  in 
great  consternation.  What  was  to  be  done  to  ward  off  so  foul 
a  disgrace  and  to  save  their  illustrious  escutcheons  from  this 


152  WOLFERTS  ROOST  AND  MISCELLANIES. 

murderous  stain  of  blood?  Their  first  attempt  was  to  prevent 
the  affair  from  going  to  trial,  and  their  relative  from  being 
dragged  before  a  criminal  tribunal,  on  so  horrible  and  de 
grading  a  charge.  They  applied,  therefore,  to  the  Regent,  to 
intervene  his  power ;  to  treat  the  Count  as  having  acted  under 
an  access  of  his  mental  malady ;  and  to  shut  him  up  in  a  mad 
house.  The  Regent  was  deaf  to  their  solicitations.  He  re 
plied,  coldly,  that  if  the  Count  was  a  madman,  one  could  not 
get  rid  too  quickly  of  madmen  who  were  furious  in  their  in 
sanity.  The  crime  was  too  public  and  atrocious  to  be  hushed 
up  or  slurred  over ;  justice  must  take  its  course. 

Seeing  there  was  no  avoiding  the  humiliating  scene  of  a 
public  trial,  the  noble  relatives  of  the  Count  endeavored  to  pre 
dispose  the  minds  of  the  magistrates  before  whom  he  was  to 
be  arraigned.  They  accordingly  made  urgent  and  eloquent 
representations  of  the  high  descent,  and  noble  and  powerful 
connexions  of  the  Count;  set  forth  the  circumstances  of  his 
early  history ;  his  mental  malady ;  the  nervous  irritability  to 
which  he  was  subject,  and  his  extreme  sensitiveness  to  insult 
or  contradiction.  By  these  means  they  sought  to  prepare  the 
judges  to  interpret  every  thing  in  favor  of  the  Count,  and, 
even  if  it  should  prove  that  he  had  inflicted  the  mortal  blow 
on  the  usurer,  to  attribute  it  to  access  of  insanity,  provoked 
by  insult. 

To  give  full  effect  to  these  representations,  the  noble  con 
clave  determined  to  bring  upon  the  judges  the  dazzling  rays 
of  the  whole  assembled  aristocracy.  Accordingly,  on  the  day 
that  the  trial  took  place,  the  relations  of  the  Count,  to  the 
number  of  fifty-seven  persons,  of  both  sexes,  and  of  the  high 
est  rank,  repaired  hi  a  body  to  the  Palace  of  Justice,  and  took 
their  stations  in  a  long  corridor  which  led  to  the  court-room. 
Here,  as  the  judges  entered,  they  had  to  pass  in  review  this 
array  of  lofty  and  noble  personages,  who  saluted  them  mourn 
fully  and  significantly,  as  they  passed.  Any  one  conversant 
with  the  stately  pride  and  jealous  dignity  of  the  French 
noblesse  of  that  day,  may  imagine  the  extreme  state  of  sensi 
tiveness  that  produced  this  self-abasement.  It  was  confidently 
presumed,  however,  by  the  noble  suppliants,  that  having  once 
brought  themselves  to  this  measure,  their  influence  over  the 
tribunal  would  be  irresistible.  There  was  one  lady  present, 
however,  Madame  de  Beauffremont,  who  was  affected  with 
the  Scottish  gift  of  second  sight,  and  related  such  dismal  and 
sinister  apparitions  as  passing  before  her  eyes,  that  many  of 


THE  COUNT  VAN  HORN.  153 

her  female  companions  were  filled  with  doleful  presenti 
ments. 

Unfortunately  for  the  Count,  there  was  another  interest  at 
work,  more  powerful  even  than  the  high  aristocracy.  The  all- 
potent  Abbe  Dubois,  the  grand  favorite  and  bosom  counsellor 
of  the  Regent,  was  deeply  interested  in  the  scheme  of  Law, 
and  the  prosperity  of  his  bank,  and  of  course  in  the  security  of 
the  stock-brokers.  Indeed,  the  Regent  himself  is  said  to  have 
dipped  deep  in  the  Mississippi  scheme.  Dubois  and  Law, 
therefore,  exerted  their  influence  to  the  utmost  to  have  the 
tragic  affair  pushed  to  the  extremity  of  the  law,  and  the  mur 
der  of  the  broker  punished  in  the  most  signal  and  appalling 
manner.  Certain  it  is,  the  trial  was  neither  long  nor  intricate. 
The  Count  and  his  fellow  prisoner  were  equally  inculpated  in 
the  crime ;  and  both  were  condemned  to  a  death  the  most  hor 
rible  and  ignominious— to  be  broken  alive  on  the  wheel ! 

As  soon  as  the  sentence  of  the  court  was  made  public,  all  the 
nobility,  in  any  degree  related  to  the  house  of  Van  Horn,  went 
into  mourning.  Another  grand  aristocratical  assemblage  was 
held,  and  a  petition  to  the  Regent,  on  behalf  of  the  Count,  was 
drawn  out  and  left  with  the  Marquis  de  Crequi  for  signature. 
This  petition  set  forth  the  previous  insanity  of  the  Count,  and 
showed  that  it  was  a  hereditary  malady  of  his  family.  It 
stated  various  circumstances  in  mitigation  of  his  offence,  and 
implored  that  his  sentence  might  be  commuted  to  perpetual 
imprisonment. 

Upward  of  fifty  names  of  the  highest  nobility,  beginning 
with  the  Prince  de  Ligne,  and  including  cardinals,  arch 
bishops,  dukes,  marquises,  etc.,  together  with  ladies  of  equal 
rank,  were  signed  to  this  petition.  By  one  of  the  caprices  of 
human  pride  and  vanity,  it  became  an  object  of  ambition  to 
get  enrolled  among  the  illustrious  suppliants ;  a  kind  of  testi 
monial  of  noble  blood,  to  prove  relationship  to  a  murderer! 
The  Marquis  de  Crequi  was  absolutely  besieged  by  applicants 
to  sign,  and  had  to  refer  their  claims  to  this  singular  honor,  to 
the  Prince  de  Ligne,  the  grandfather  of  the  Count.  Many  who 
were  excluded,  were  highly  incensed,  and  numerous  feuds  took 
place.  Nay,  the  affronts  thus  given  to  the  morbid  pride  of 
some  aristocratical  families,  passed  from  generation  to  genera 
tion  ;  for,  fifty  years  afterward,  the  Duchess  of  Mazarin  com 
plained  of  a  slight  which  her  father  had  received  from  the  Mar 
quis  de  Crequi ;  which  proved  to  be  something  connected  with 
the  signature  of  this  petition. 


154  WOLt'JfW&  ROOST  AM)  MISCELLANIES. 

This  important  document  being  completed,  the  illustrious 
body  of  petitioners,  male  and  female,  on  Saturday  evening, 
the  eve  of  Palm  Sunday,  repaired  to  the  Palais  Royal,  the  resi 
dence  of  the  Regent,  and  were  ushered,  with  great  ceremony 
but  profound  silence,  into  his  hall  of  council.  They  had  ap 
pointed  four  of  their  number  as  deputies,  to  present  the  peti 
tion,  viz. :  the  Cardinal  de  Rohan,  the  Duke  de  Havre,  the 
Prince  de  Ligne,  and  the  Marquis  de  Crequi.  After  a  little 
while,  the  deputies  were  summoned  to  the  cabinet  of  the  Re 
gent.  They  entered,  leaving  the  assembled  petitioners  in  a  state 
of  the  greatest  anxiety.  As  time  slowly  wore  away,  and  the 
evening  advanced,  the  gloom  of  the  company  increased.  Sev 
eral  of  the  ladies  prayed  devoutly;  the  good  Princess  of  Ar- 
magnac  told  her  beads. 

The  petition  was  received  by  the  Regent  with  a  most  unpropi- 
tious  aspect.  "In  asking  the  pardon  of  the  criminal,"  said  he, 
"you  display  more  zeal  for  the  house  of  Van  Horn,  than  for 
the  service  of  the  king."  The  noble  deputies  enforced  the  peti 
tion  by  every  argument  in  their  power.  They  supplicated  the 
Regent  to  consider  that  the  infamous  punishment  in  question 
would  reach  not  merely  the  person  of  the  condemned,  not 
merely  the  house  of  Van  Horn,  but  also  the  genealogies  of 
princely  and  illustrious  families,  in  whose  armorial  bearings 
might  be  found  quarterings  of  this  dishonored  name. 

"Gentlemen,"  replied  the  Regent,  "  it  appears  to  me  the  dis 
grace  consists  in  the  crime,  rather  than  in  the  punishment." 

The  Prince  de  Ligne  spoke  with  warmth:  "I  have  in  my 
genealogical  standard,"  said  he,  "four  escutcheons  of  Van 
Horn,  and  of  course  have  four  ancestors  of  that  house.  I  must 
have  them  erased  and  effaced,  and  there  would  be  so  many 
blank  spaces,  like  holes,  in  my  heraldic  ensigns.  There  is  not 
a  sovereign  family  which  would  not  suffer,  through  the  rigor 
of  your  Royal  Highness ;  nay,  all  the  world  knows,  that  in  the 
thirty-two  quartsrings  of  Madame,  your  mother,  there  is  an 
escutcheon  of  Van  Horn." 

"  Very  well,"  replied  the  Regent,  "  I  will  share  the  disgrace 
with  you,  gentlemen." 

Seeing  that  a  pardon  could  not  be  obtained,  the  Cardinal 
de  Rohan  and  the  Marquis  de  Cre"qui  left  the  cabinet ;  but  the 
Prince  de  Ligne  and  the  Duke  de  Havre  remained  behind. 
The  honor  of  their  houses,  more  than  the  life  of  the  unhappy 
Count,  was  the  great  object  of  their  solicitude.  They  now  en 
deavored  to  obtain  a  minor  grace.  They  represented  that  in 


THE  COUNT  VAN  HORN.  155 

the  Netherlands,  and  in  Germany,  there  was  an  important  dif 
ference  in  the  public  mind  as  to  the  mode  of  inflicting  the  pun 
ishment  of  death  upon  persons  of  quality.  That  decapitation 
had  no  influence  on  the  fortunes  of  the  family  of  the  executed, 
but  that  the  punishment  of  the  wheel  was  such  an  infamy, 
that  the  uncles,  aunts,  brothers,  and  sisters  of  the  criminal, 
and  his  whole  family,  for  three  succeeding  generations,  were 
excluded  from  all  noble  chapters,  princely  abbeys,  sovereign 
bishoprics,  and  even  Teutonic  commanderies  of  the  Order  of 
Malta.  They  showed  how  this  would  operate  immediately 
upon  the  fortunes  of  a  sister  of  the  Count,  who  was  on  the 
point  of  being  received  as  a  canoness  into  one  of  the  noble 
chapters. 

While  this  scene  was  going  on  in  the  cabinet  of  the  Regent, 
the  illustrious  assemblage  of  petitioners  remained  in  the  hall  of 
council,  in  the  most  gloomy  state  of  suspense.  The  re-entrance 
from  the  cabinet  of  the  Cardinal  de  Rohan  and  the  Marquis  do 
Crequi,  with  pale,  downcast  countenances,  had  struck  a  chill 
into  every  heart.  Still  they  lingered  until  near  midnight,  to 
learn  the  result  of  the  after  application.  At  length  the  cabi 
net  conference  was  at  an  end.  The  Regent  came  forth,  and  sa 
luted  the  high  personages  of  the  assemblage  in  a  courtly  man 
ner.  One  old  lady  of  quality,  Madame  de  Guyon,  whom  he 
had  known  in  his  infancy,  he  kissed  on  the  cheek,  calling  her 
his  "  good  aunt."  He  made  a  most  ceremonious  salutation  to 
the  stately  Marchioness  de  Crequi,  telling  her  he  was  charmed 
to  see  her  at  the  Palais  Royal;  "  a  compliment  very  ill-timed," 
said  the  Marchioness,  ' '  considering  the  circumstance  which 
brought  me  there. "  He  then  conducted  the  ladies  to  the  door 
of  the  second  saloon,  and  there  dismissed  them,  with  the  most 
ceremonious  politeness. 

The  application  of  the  Prince  de  Ligne  and  the  Duke  de 
Havre,  for  a  change  of  the  mode  of  punishment,  had,  after 
much  difficulty,  been  successful.  The  Regent  had  promised 
solemnly  to  send  a  letter  of  commutation  to  the  attorney-gen 
eral  on  Holy  Monday,  the  25th  of  March,  at  five  o'clock  in  the 
morning.  According  to  the  same  promise,  a  scaffold  would  be 
arranged  in  the  cloister  of  the  Conciergerie,  or  prison,  where 
the  Count  would  be  beheaded  on  the  same  morning,  imme 
diately  after  having  received  absolution.  This  mitigation  of 
the  form  of  punishment  gave  but  little  consolation  to  the  great 
body  of  petitioners,  who  had  been  anxious  for  the  pardon  of  the 
youth :  it  was  looked  upon  as  all-important,  however,  by  the 


166  WOLFtiUrs  LuOS'l'  AXi)  M1&CELLANIE3. 

Prince  de  Ligne,  who,  as  has  been  before  observed,  was  ex 
quisitely  alive  to  the  dignity  of  his  family. 

The  Bishop  of  Bayeux  and  the  Marquis  de  Crequi  visited  the 
unfortunate  youth  in  prison.  He  had  just  received  the  com 
munion  in  the  chapel  of  the  Conciergerie,  and  was  kneeling 
before  the  altar,  listening  to  a  mass  for  the  dead,  which  was 
performed  at  his  request.  He  protested  his  innocence  of  any 
intention  to  murder  the  Jew,  but  did  not  deign  to  allude  to  the 
accusation  of  robbery.  He  made  the  bishop  and  the  Marquis 
promise  to  see  his  brother  the  prince,  and  inform  him  of  this 
his  dying  asseveration. 

Two  other  of  his  relations,  the  Prince  Rebecq-Montmorency 
and  the  Marshal  Van  Isenghien,  visited  him  secretly,  and  of 
fered  him  poison,  as  a  means  of  evading  the  disgrace  of  a  public 
execution.  On  his  refusing  to  take  it,  they  left  him  with  high 
indignation.  "  Miserable  man !"  said  they,  "you  are  fit  only  to 
perish  by  the  hand  of  the  executioner  1" 

The  Marquis  de  Crequi  sought  the  executioner  of  Paris,  to 
bespeak  an  easy  and  decent  death  for  the  unfortunate  youth. 
"  Do  not  make  him  suffer,"  said  he;  "  uncover  no  part  of  him 
but  the  neck ;  and  have  his  body  placed  in  a  coffin,  before  you 
deliver  it  to  his  family."  The  executioner  promised  all  that  was 
requested,  but  declined  a  rouleau  of  a  hundred  louis-d'ors  which 
the  Marquis  would  have  put  into  his  hand.  ' '  I  am  paid  by  the 
king  for  fulfilling  my  office,"  said  he;  and  added  that  he  had 
already  refused  a  like  sum,  offered  by  another  relation  of  the 
Marquis. 

The  Marquis  de  Crequi  returned  home  in  a  state  of  deep  afflic 
tion.  There  he  found  a  letter  from  the  Duke  de  St.  Simon,  the 
familiar  friend  of  the  Regent,  repeating  the  promise  of  that 
prince,  that  the  punishment  of  the  wheel  should  be  commuted 
to  decapitation. 

"Imagine,"  says  the  Marchioness  de  Cre"qui,  who  in  her 
memoirs  gives  a  detailed  account  of  this  affair,  "  imagine  what 
we  experienced,  and  what  was  our  astonishment,  our  grief,  and 
indignation,  when,  on  Tuesday,  the  26th  of  March,  an  hour 
after  midday,  word  was  brought  us  that  the  Count  Van  Horn 
had  been  exposed  on  the  wheel,  in  the  Place  de  Greve,  since 
half-past  six  in  the  morning,  on  the  same  scaffold  with  the 
Piedmontese  de  Mille,  and  that  he  had  been  tortured  previous 
to  execution  1" 

One  more  scene  of  aristocratic  pride  closed  this  tragic  story. 
The  Marquis  de  Crequi,  on  receiving  this  astounding  news,  im- 


THE  COUNT  VAN  HORN.  157 

mediately  arrayed  himself  in  the  uniform  of  a  general  officer, 
with  his  cordon  of  nobility  on  the  coat.  He  ordered  six  valets 
to  attend  him  in  grand  livery,  and  two  of  his  carriages,  each 
with  six  horses,  to  be  brought  forth.  In  this  sumptuous  state, 
he  set  off  for  the  Place  de  Greve,  where  he  had  been  preceded 
by  the  Princes  de  Ligne,  de  Rohan,  de  Croiiy,  and  the  Duke 
de  Havre. 

The  Count  Van  Horn  was  already  dead,  and  it  was  believed 
that  the  executioner  had  had  the  charity  to  give  him  the  coup 
de  grace,  or  "  death-blow,"  at  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning.  At 
five  o'clock  in  the  evening,  when  the  Judge  Commissary  left 
his  post  at  the  Hotel  de  Ville,  these  noblemen,  with  their  own 
hands,  aided  to  detach  the  mutilated  remains  of  their  relation ; 
the  Marquis  de  Crequi  placed  them  in  one  of  his  carriages,  and 
bore  them  off  to  his  hotel,  to  receive  the  last  sad  obsequies. 

The  conduct  of  the  Regent  in  this  affair  excited  general 
indignation.  His  needless  severity  was  attributed  by  some  to 
vindictive  jealousy ;  by  others  to  the  persevering  machinations 
of  Law.  The  house  of  Van  Horn,  and  the  high  nobility  of 
Flanders  and  Germany,  considered  themselves  flagrantly  out 
raged  :  many  schemes  of  vengeance  were  talked  of,  and  a  hatred 
engendered  against  the  Regent,  that  followed  him  through  life, 
and  was  wreaked  with  bitterness  upon  his  memory  after  his 
death. 

The  following  letter  is  said  to  have  been  written  to  the  Regent 
by  the  Prince  Van  Horn,  to  whom  the  former  had  adjudged 
the  confiscated  effects  of  the  Count : 

"I  do  not  complain,  Sir,  of  the  death  of  my  brother,  but  I 
complain  that  your  Royal  Highness  has  violated  in  his  person 
the  rights  of  the  kingdom,  the  nobility,  and  the  nation.  I  thank 
you  for  the  confiscation  of  his  effects ;  but  I  should  think  my 
self  as  much  disgraced  as  he,  should  I  accept  any  favor  at  your 
hands.  /  hope  that  God  and  the  King  may  render  to  you  as 
strict  justice  as  you  have  rendered  to  my  unfortunate  brother." 


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